Ella overheard Tom and I talking about a potential move* this morning, and was agahst. “I don’t want to move. I like our house. I like my school.” I remembered suddenly how hard it was to move as a kid. I did it more than most, and but never built up that ‘military brat’ outer shell. I went into every new town wanting to be accepted, to make friends, to stay.
Tom and I looked at each other, and sighed. “We know, baby, but wouldn’t it be exciting to get to live in a big city, with lots of museums?” I asked, playing devil’s advocate, even though I am not convinced all the bones in the Smithsonian are worth more than my patch of green garden.
Ella’s voice quavered. “I don’t want to be far away from my best friends.” I chewed on my lip, and hugged her. How do I comfort her and convince her that she will make new friends, when I dread the possibility of having to build another tribe – when I am almost certain I couldn’t replicate the friendships I have here?
Alice watched us from across the dining room table, drawing. She shrugged. “Don’t worry Ella. We are your best friends and we will never leave you.”
*Yes, this is on the table again. I have a feeling that, as long as Tom works for this particular agency, it will continue to be an issue (or oppertunity, depending on how you look at it).