“On Wednesday, all my friends went to a hotel for dancing and I was alone.” She said while I lay beside her. She had just woken up from her nap and I was back home from work.
She’d ramble about the instruments they used for the dance and asked me to listen to her when I ask a question.
“I have tears in this eye. And in this eye too,” She pointed and continued, “But only a little and I wiped it away when they came back.” Cracking a smile full of baby teeth, she was more mature than I thought.
It must have hit her hard to be left out. Her parents did not notice that they were to send her in by 7.30am so she missed the bus and got left behind, watching cartoon and playing while she waited for her friends to return.
She could name all her classmates and what instruments were they playing. You’d know who is her best friend and which young man caught her eye by the way she speaks of them.
She mentioned this to my mother and repeated it to me today. This was important to her. Even when we think she would get over it, it is the present that mattered most.
And while she got up and brushes off her disappointments, she’d probably would not be mentioning it by next week, coming home with her usual smile and sharing her stories from school.
But it happened, because her feelings wouldn’t say otherwise
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