|
|
Monday, July 17, 2006Past Meets Present
 "One little, two little, three little apples..."Yes, that's me. Eighteen years ago. Miss Jill, Preschool Teacher -- another lifetime. In church yesterday, I found the courage to approach a woman whom I'd seen several times over the past six months or so. I'd seen her in church, I'd seen her in a restaurant, I'd seen her name in our church bulletin. I knew her -- I was certain of it. And when I heard her talking to another lady in church, I recogized her sweet, Southern-Belle voice. So I approached her. "Phyllis?" She looked at me with absolutely no recognition in her eyes. "You don't know me, but we used to work together at Creative Care Center." Ah, yes, she did remember me. But what was my name again? Funny how two people's lives can be entwined, and then become so completely disengaged as to not give each other a passing thought for years. Phyllis was the music teacher in the daycare where I worked for a year and a half, back in my newlywed, pre-children days. She was delighted to discover that I was an accomplished pianist, so I ended up being her accompanist for the silly, we're-doing-this-to-make-the-parents-happy concerts the daycare did twice a year. (Try to make a row of three-year-olds stand still on stage and sing a song they can't remember because it's written on about a fifth-grade level. I dare you.) The children loved their time with Miss Phyllis, and I...well, I liked getting a little break twice a week while they had "music class." Phyllis, eager to use my talents, asked me to accompany for a choral production at the local middle school as well, and Eric and I once provided pre-concert Christmas music at one of the daycare extravaganzas. In short, Phyllis and I "clicked" on a music teacher level. She was one of the (only) pleasant parts of my tenure at Creative Care Center. Now, here I was, hugging her warmly, eighteen years later. And do you know what she said to me once it registered, exactly, who I was? "Why, you're all grown up!" Fancy that. I was not-quite-twenty-three when I met Phyllis, while she was already a late--thirties mom of two middle-school-aged daughters. She was settled, mature. I was...a complete twit. I never thought I'd have to pass the age of forty to be "all grown up." But it felt good to hear her say it. I'd like to think that I am "all grown up." Still growing, still seeking, still learning -- but no longer a flighty thing with no clue about much of anything. At least I don't perm my hair anymore. I'm sure there's a reason why I've crossed paths with Phyllis again. Time will tell. I'm just glad I had the courage to step right up and say hello. That's proof right there that I've grown up a bit. (Fear of rejection is an ugly thing.) And yes, I can still name all but one of the children whose faces are showing on that picture. The fact that they're all old enough to be finishing up their final year in college is something I'd rather not remember. So. I'm all grown up. Good news, that! I wonder if my sister would agree... |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
Previous Posts
LabelsCurrently reading:
|
5of my readers are feeling chatty:
Agree that you are all grown up or that it is good news? I'll wait for your clarification before I answer;o)
Very clever, Sister! :)
LMSO! You two keep each other smiling...
Jill, how wonderful that you reconnected with Phyllis. I love when I cross paths with someone from my past like that. Most of the time anyway. :0)
Hey, I like the perm! I'm an 80's guy at heart, what can I say?
Ken dear, there's "liking the 80s" and then there's "getting stuck in the 80s." I'm assuming you're from the first group. :)
Post a Comment
<< Home