When I was a little girl, I had this blue dress. I loved it, for one reason and one reason only: it slightly resembled a dress worn by Belle in Beauty and the Beast. Picture: the busy day of a small town in the French countryside. Belle gracefully skims through near mis-haps while having her head buried in a book. The song she sings describes her craving for adventure, her want for more than her normal life. I, an impressionable child of four, grabbed my thickest book and, wandering around my living room, participated in the scene. And so, I felt exceptionally special whenever I got to wear this blue dress. I felt like her, like a princess, ready to run around, read books, and fall in love.
As happens with most things in life, I outgrew the dress. Mom stored it on the top shelf of my closet, just out of reach (even when I stood on my wooden child-safe stool). I was, as you can imagine, very upset at my loss. The blue dress... I could see it. It was mine. But I couldn't wear it anymore.
Today, I wore another blue dress. One I like very much. I get compliments on it, I like the a-line cut, and the color very closely resembles the Belle dress. And, to be completely honest, I feel somewhat like I felt as a child.
But I am not the little girl who spun around her couch, singing happily. Not anymore. It seems I have grown up. I have new things to think about, cry about, laugh about. And I have no idea how that happened. I'm not entirely sure I appreciate it.
Sure, there are benefits. I can reach the top shelf in my closet now.
Today, in the new blue dress, I realized that not only have I changed, but so have those around me. And they will continue to do so, as will I. I've understood for some time now that they will not be a part of my daily life, but it was only today that I realized I will not be a part of theirs. I won't know their newest crisis, nor their newest joy. I won't be the ears for their complants, nor the arms for their hugs.
In forty or so days, I will wear another blue gown. And I will be a different person then than I am now: a high school graduate, if nothing else.
I will graduate from their school... must I graduate from their lives as well?
2 comments:
I hope you won't graduate from my life. Casa Numero Siete forever!!
i love reading your writing...
...school ends...people don't...those your inability to "graduate" from them. You'll never not need them...them or someone like them.
Post a Comment