Monday, 14 September 2009

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean...

Well, as joyous as the shenanigans of yesterday morning were, reality plopped down like a sandbag in the evening. I think it all started when I was trying to explain to younger daughter what will be happening this Thursday as her father and I attempt to attend this semester's "mini-time-table" at elder daughter's high school, an opportunity to meet elder daughter's teachers and get a feel for her day. Since the MTT starts at 4, this means I will need to rendezvous with elder daughter downtown, so I can pass younger daughter over for the home lap as we bus in from distant Nepean.

Apparently, this shook younger daughter's already shaky sense of security and she stomped upstairs and shut her bedroom door firmly. The Resident Fan Boy went up to check on her and was informed that she doesn't want to go to school, the work is too hard, the teacher won't help her, and everybody is mean to her.

Well. It's not as if we couldn't see this coming. Younger daughter's challenges will not vanish, no matter how small and willing the school is. All the same, I felt as if I'd been punched in the solar plexus. All I could do was promise her I'd tell her teacher what she'd said (with some minor editing), before another night of gremlin-wrestling. On the bus ride this morning, I gingerly checked with her:
"You told Daddy everyone is mean to you; is that how it is?"
"I don't think so..."

Just in front of me, a teen-aged boy plopped into a sideways seat. As he turned his head, I saw his eyes were full of tears. I just had time to give him a small, sympathetic smile before he turned away again.

Writes of Passage Number Four:

It was a summer night in Victoria, and the dark bus was crammed with university students returning to their digs near or at UVic. Being pushed into the space surrounding the rear door was a young couple, though something told me this might be a first date, if it was a date at all. She was on the short side, blond, not dazzling pretty, but attractive in a low-maintenance kind of way. He was very tall with a mop of dark curls, and certainly what I would have thought of as dishy in my own university days. The girl was being pushed into him by the press of the surrounding standers, but I rather thought she was not as crowded as she was trying to make it appear. He stood his ground, not exactly holding back, not really encouraging her either. His stop came first. I think he may have leaned down to kiss her before he vanished. It was too dark to be sure.

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