The Girls!
There she is, our granddaughter, nine years old, full of fun and the enjoyment of life, sprawling all over her friend. There are dark things happening in the background of her life, where she is very aware that her mother has initiated proceedings whereby they will make a new life for themselves. This child was at first saddened by the fact that her mother's partner of almost seven years would soon be absent from her life. She has since adjusted, as children are wont to do.
Beside her is Stephanie, her best friend from school. Stephanie is a year older than Angelyne, a really cool kid, partly explained by the fact that she has two older sisters and an older brother. She has obviously selected well and patterned herself in part on what she has observed of her siblings. Angie has done likewise, patterning much of her girly behaviour on that of her friend. Some bits of innocent patterning don't have her grandmother's approval. These are slight things such as wearing sleeveless tops in winter, eschewing socks altogether (but Angie's mother warned her last night that if she continues to slip her bare feet into shoes and boots she'll be in trouble; this after her grandmother has been bemoaning the practise for the last month), and speaking an odd kind of language where 'sweet', and other expressions obviously mean something which eludes old farts like me.
The girls form quite a duo. We're really happy to see them together. They've known one another for several years, and they've slept over at one another's homes several times. They are part of a small clique of 5 or 6 girls in their class. I'm the fascinated recipient of some of the gossip, some of the wordplay, some of the action, some of the outrage that goes on amongst them during the course of a normal day in the life of 9- and 10-year-olds.
And here I thought that Angie had a stevedore's appetite! Stephanie has demonstrated very nicely for me that Angie is not at all unusual in that respect. In fact, Stephanie has outdone Angie in that department, to my great delight. Our after-school snack routine has doubled occasionally, with Stephanie's accompanying Angie home to us after school, until Angie's mother arrives after work to drop Stephanie off at her home, close by ours, and take Angie home for the day. Yesterday they had tangerines, chocolate milk, grilled cheese sandwiches. Today's menu was little dishes of fresh raspberries, chocolate milk, croissants, spread with honey. Angie's friend told us she had never tasted honey before. Angie, who always refuses to eat honey, this time plied it thickly on her croissant, along with her girlfriend.
Stephanie, by her account, has passed by our house often, not knowing it was the house of her friend's grandparents. When she first spoke to her father, calling from our telephone after school, to inform him where she was, she told him the street name and identified the house by its stained glass windows. Evidently they walk often on the street, and have noted the house before. Oddly, Stephanie repeats things on the telephone to her father, and as she repeats, she becomes impatient, until finally she hangs up the receiver. Turning to me the first time I noted this she explained that her father goes on and on, one question after another, until she yes, terminates the tedious conversation, hangs up. What?
Stephanie is fascinated by the house, and it is indeed a house which many children find fascinating. Kind of like a museum and art gallery rolled into one. Angie is more than happy to haul Stephanie around showing her every last nook and cranny in the house. That wouldn't be so bad, but Angie goes somewhat overboard and begins opening desk and bureau drawers, doors of the Japanese Shinto shrine, my many jewellery boxes. Nothing is immune from her frenetic activities geared to showing her friend that all is permitted this golden child in her second home. Her friend is fascinated, and cannot, obviously, see too much.
In one box on her Grandfather's bureau she finds a soft-sculpture piece of wearable art that her own mother had made when she was not all that much older than she is. Also in there were small hair ornaments of plastic which no one uses and which I finally yank out intending to add them to the bagful I'd placed in the bag meant for the Sally Ann. Angie's friend expresses an interest in them and I offer them to her and haul out the rest from the bag destined for the Sally Ann. She has long hair and is more than a little intrigued, and decides she would like them all. I'm only too happy to oblige, even though she begins to demur, saying she's being selfish wanting them all. What a precious child.
When Angie moves on to begin opening my jewellery boxes I indulge them for a while. They ooh, and aah over this and that, although I know that Angie is well familiar with just about everything I own. I offer a silver-link bracelet set with colourful polished garnets to Angie, knowing it's not the kind she likes, and her friend offers that she would love to have it. I had planned to offer it to her, in any event, and she is delighted to have it. As a child I would have given my eyeteeth to have such a piece of jewellery, so I'm really pleased about that. Angie keeps rummaging about and I offer her a silver ring set with a brilliant cut bright pink stone, right down her alley.
From there they gravitate to the library, because it's an overcast day and the light is better in there. I have camera in hand and would like to take a few photographs of them, and although Angie has taken to avoiding such sessions her friend is more than eager and thus is it that I am able to capture a few additional moments in the life of this child.
Love, Grandma.
posted by Pieface @ Wednesday, November 16, 2005
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