Wonderment

And So She Grew

     It was no lie that I was different from the other kids on the playground. While they laughed and ran around, I sat and observed. I couldn't comprehend their obvious energy. They were so happy and reckless while the world seemed to fade around them. I understood why they giggled and played but I didn't know why they continued to do so.

I sat on this rock every recess for the first three years of school. The teachers would try to get me to play with the other children but when that failed, they went and had a talk with my parents. Mom was apologetic and promised that she would attempt to have me playing by next week. My father, however, was anything but sorry.

"Who are you to tell me what's wrong with my child?!" He jumped from the chair. "She's perfect. If she doesn't want to play, let her. She'll jump rope when she feels like it. Don't force her." 

The principal turned her attention to me, sitting calmly behind my parents. She lifted a graying eyebrow and tilted her head. "Larken, dear? Why is it that you don't want to play with the others?" She, for the first time, asked me.

I opened my mouth and then shut it, pondering the question. "I want to play." I said, honestly, causing everyone to shut up. "But," My fingers twirled a stray peice of white-blonde around. "I want to watch, too." 

That was that. The teachers left me alone at recess. My parents bought me more toys. And the principal kept a really close eye on me. So close that when I left elementary school, she followed me. She became a teacher at my middle school and a counselor, my counselor, at my high school. 

     At the time, I didn't understand my purpose in life. I saw the world in a different way than my peers. To me, it was so much more beautiful but terrifying at the same time. I saw the flowers with mind and the shadows with my soul. Everything was so much more alive for me. 

It scared me.

I tried to play with the toys that my parents had bought me but it wasn't like how the other kids played with them. It felt false and forced for me. My barbies always cried and my ponies could never jump over the fence. So I stopped and instead, sat in front of my window and watched the squirrels catch the falling acorns and scurry back up the tree to their nest. Over and over and over again.

 It wasn't until the day that I turned ten that things changed. I woke up that morning with a pounding in my heart. My mom was in the kitchen setting the table while my dad made pancakes with chocolate chips in them, my favorite. Mom was humming a tune that I couldn't quite make out. 

When I entered, she looked up and immediately wrapped me in her arms. "Oh, my little one. You are so big now, honey." 

My dad glanced over his shoulder, a huge grin on his face. "Yep. Lark, you are no longer a child, now. You're a big kid!" 

My tummy twisted. I tried to give them a smile but it was warped. These people who had loved me for so long saw straight through it. "Honey, what's the matter?" My mom asked, sitting me down at the table.

My dad turned off the stove and set the pan on the back burner, walking over to join us. "Baby, you have nothing to be afraid of. Growing up is just part of life."

"But, daddy, what if I lose it?" I asked, my hands trembling.

"Lose what, sweetheart?" mom layed a caring hand on my knee.

I stared both of them in the eye. "My wonderment."

My mom sighed and my dad chuckled.

"Larken, one thing your mom and I know for sure is that you are special." he put an arm around my shoulder allowing me to lay my head on his chest. "You will never lose anything you don't want to. You just gotta fight for it, is all."

"Okay, daddy." I closed my eyes and breathed in his smell of pancake batter and fall. My mom brushed my hair back and whispered in my ear.

"You are a miracle, honey. Don't forget that."