Generally, it's not okay with me when Mermaid slides under a closed stall in the ladies restroom. This is not an infrequent issue. My usual response includes dropped shoulders, hand to forehead and the rolling of eyeballs followed by a frustrated groan. Yet, there she goes, slipping under the stall door with her supernatural flexibility and popping up on the other side. Her friend is in there. Her friend, E, is throwing up. E needs her.
I can see from Mermaid's ankles that she is standing to the side, but very nearby. As the belly contents lurch again, Mermaid puts her hand between E's shoulders in a series of soft pats. By now, I'm peeking through the slit in the stall trying to decide whether or not to intervene. "Ooh!" Mermaid says, "That's gross." All the while patting E's back. All the while standing by her friend. All the while comforting her. Never looking away. Never minimizing E's suffering. Mermaid stands there, by her friend just being with her.
My eyeballs are not rolling. My shoulders do not shrug. There is no frustration. Only the unspoken wish that I could be more like Mermaid.
3 comments:
Love your mermaid, though I only met her when she was little. Thank you for your beautiful telling of this touching, beautiful story.
Tonia
Thank you, Tonia. It's good to hear from you. Isn't it remarkable how much we can learn from our children?
A display of a compassionate friend. You recorded the moment so beautifully.
Post a Comment