Laura

This time of year, with holidays approaching, I always find myself reflecting on my past. I find myself thinking back to childhood and remembering the way things were back then. The people in my life, things that seemed important, major life-changing events.

Today, I’m consumed with thoughts of Laura. When I was in the 6th grade, she was the Title I teacher at our school. I was not in Title I, but my mom worked with her so I got to know her very well. So much so, that I spent time with her away from school. She’d let me come visit her and sometimes she came to my house. I mentioned the time I got chicken pox. That was the last time I wore a costume on Halloween. When I returned back home, she was there and we snacked on steamed prawns before I went to bed.

As a child, I was extremely shy. I never spoke unless spoken to and even then I’d keep my answers short. Laura had a way that made me feel comfortable. My favorite days were the days she had recess duty. She’d wander the playground and allow me to tag along. We’d sing little songs together. One of my favorites at the time was “Jeepers Creepers”. When I was home with the chicken pox, she sent home little notes and gifts with my mom and I wrote cheesy little poems to thank her.

She was only here that one year and I was so upset when she left. I walked with her down the ramp to the plane and cried all the way back up. My dad took me fishing so I could just be quiet and deal with having to say goodbye to someone I was not ready to let go.

I guess she wasn’t ready, either. She left in June. My birthday is in August. She made a sun catcher for me and sent it to me for my birthday. I still have it. I’d get a letter from her every now and then. She invited me to her wedding, sent birth announcements for each of her children; she even sent cards when I graduated from 8th grade and high school. When she sends out her yearly Christmas letters, I’m on her list. We’ve exchanged a few phone calls, but not nearly enough.

Having her as a friend meant a lot to me. At a time when I was having trouble connecting with my peers, she found a way to reach me. Because of her, I felt accepted. I didn’t have to prove anything to her. I didn’t have to act a certain way to belong. I learned that being “me” was enough.

That was the greatest lesson I could have learned. Now that I’m grown, I try to reach out to kids who resemble the child I was. I never back away when they reach out for a hug. I don’t force them to talk, but am always attentive when they choose to. It does my heart good to know that I can make a difference, no matter how inconsequential my act may seem. I know from experience what it means to have an adult, someone who is not related or in a position where they “have” to, pay attention to me.

Knowing her made me a better person because she helped me feel safe outside my shell. I think I’m going to dig out my address book so I can tell her that.