Bracing for impact

Girl and I are walking home from school when she sees, way in the distance, a small shape that can only be her friend, Jill*. Her words, which had been traveling out of her mouth up until this point, cut off abruptly and flutter to the ground like paper snowflakes.

JILLLLLL!

There is a lurch. There is running. The sidewalk squares speed by. Ahead, coming closer, is Jill, running towards her, pigtails soaring behind.  Jill is wearing a grin of bubbling excitement. I can no longer see Girl's face but can only imagine the determination. The glee. The desperate love.

Be careful, I yell.

Primarily, I mean: don't fall on the concrete at such high speeds. But, those two words wear heavier than that.

Like the answer to a physics equation with vectors and speed, the two small bodies make contact with a dispersion of energy into space. Invisible rays of girl love shoot out from their nexus. It is sweet, I think. I admit, yes, sweet.

Yet, behind them, unnoticed, I'm sinking a bit deeper into the ground. Watching the scene with a measured detachment. Wariness.

Kyra* is walking towards them purposefully. For Kyra is Jill's friend. And Jill is Girl's friend. And Kyra is Girl's friend. But the logic is not so straight-forward or permanent in the minds of 3 and 4 year-olds. Because sometimes Jill is not Girl's friend, Kyra is Girl's friend. And sometimes Girl is not Kyra's friend but Jill's friend.

When I hear these social declarations, I start a slow inward coil. Gathering up her heart, her love, her joy, and tucking it in safely under my arms. Gently. Quietly. Preemptively.

I can see what's coming up ahead. Maybe not now, maybe not next month, but at some point, there will be heartbreak. Where the invisible rays of girl love shoot out and wound.

So, I brace. And watch their exchange with muted happiness.

*names changed

Comments

[flutter]

It is so hard to watch her veer towards all of the things you have experienced in your own life, but don't want her to. Isn't it?

((you))

[Stimey]

I remember when Sam was 4 and 5 and all of that started: Michael is on my team today, but not Keith. Today Keith is on my team. And on and on. I think it's tougher with girls though. At least if I remember correctly from my youth.

[InTheFastLane]

And that impact will hurt. Why is does this seem to be a part of girls' nature.

[amdadak]

I hear you here. A few months ago Xan came to me, very upset, and his explanation involved the phrases "Michaela is my best best friend" "Michaela won't hold my hand." I didn't know this all started so early.

[Manic Mommy]

With seven kids five and under on our street, someone's always on the outs. And 3 is NEVER a good number.

Until then, I love the story of the running girls ala Laura Ingalls in the field.

[ewe_are_here]

I see this more in little girls than little boys, but I suspect that's changing, too... sigh

[chaotic joy]

Ah. Yes, it is so. We have long barred my daughter from having two friends over at a time. Even she (at eleven now) says she would rather have one friend at her birthday party than 6 because of the drama. Sometimes she's a victim of it, sometimes, even more sadly, the cause. Girl relationships are so complicated. This post was amazing.