le bien, le mal

the good, the bad.  i'm trying.  i'm trying not to feel sorry for myself. trying to look on the bright side. so much of life is just how we break it down, how we paint it, half full, half empty.  i'm looking at zoe and the world around her- zoe and other 11 year olds.  which is almost always a big mistake.

this part is so hard for me, maybe only for me- hopefully only for me.  it's hard that she is never invited- never asked, that she's no ones number one.  that i need to instigate, plan, invite or organize.  that other girls call each other, meet each other and go for ice cream or bagels or gum.  that they have sleepovers.  that they are expanding there horizons- becoming independent- formulating themselves apart from their parents- creating their worlds together- as peers- as friends- with unity and commonality.  that they go to 'friday night skate' and begin the drama of boy meets girl.

and there's my girl- alone.  sometimes they stop by- which is good, and kind and nice and she loves.  but it's painful too.  the difference. the sideways looks between them.  the obvious difference in how they talk to her.  and her over-talking, nervous, trying, awkward, not following.  you know these kids from your own childhood- they didn't fit in- you didn't really want to be around them- because it was awkward for you too- you didn't invite them over- you were nice and polite but you were not friends.  or maybe you weren't even nice- maybe you were mean. or maybe you were one of those kids- who just didn't get it-ever, and you know how much it sucked.

i should be over it by now.  it's not new.  this is how it's always been. somehow i'm just not over it.  somehow it's actually harder now.

yesterday i was on a walk with one of my best friends.  we were talking about uganda and zoe and schooling.  i was saying our plan was to continue homeschooling her for a while- that i wasn't sure if we'd put her back in school- but that i get stressed sometimes about her future- about whether she'd want to go to college and how that would happen.  she said she wouldn't worry about that because zoe's path was so obviously going to be different- that she wasn't going to just go off to college and find a boy and get married- like i did. ouch.  that stung.  maybe it stung because maybe inside i know it's true.  maybe it stung because i had to hear it out loud from someone else- a voice of my fears.  or because it was taking away some far off hope.  but mostly it stung because true as it may be- it's just not something you can state.  as if it's a 'known', as if it doesn't deserve an acknowledgement of the fact that it totally sucks. and it's  really, really hard, and isolating, and unknown.  it stung because she has no idea how much it stings everyday- and every year- and that while her life goes on and follows it typical course- mine doesn't.  and i try hard to not feel sorry - i try hard not to wish it were different here- i try hard not to feel jealous and resentful. but sometimes i do.  and then of course i feel terribly guilty.


right now zoe is over at lily's house.  i invited her over, i called, i dropped her there. she is waiting for lily to come back with her friends from the bagel store.  she'll get to play with them. i won't have to watch. but i do have to wait- by the phone for 'the call' that things aren't going well- or hear afterward about the stickiness- about her reaction to the stress of being around kids who are 11 and who get it. or maybe it will go well- or well enough.

the peace
where is it?  i'm not sure.  it comes sometimes.  when i can remember that it is what it is.  when i can embrace her as just zoe, not zoe in relation to everyone else.  when i can 'forgive' those around me for their normal lives.  when i can not stress about how she's doing down the street with three other girls her age.  when i can let it go and when i can be OK with her not fitting in exactly.  i'm not sure if the work is in accepting things, or lowering the expectations- or if the work is in being still in the awareness that it will always be hard.  that peace and joy come in many flavors. as does love.  that lives that are lived out differently are still beautiful and meaningful and passionate.  that hope isn't hope for her to live the 'normal' path- but to blossom on her own path.  that i will hurt her by feeling sorry, and i will grow strength in her by helping her carve her own, unique way. ahh, there's the peace.