About a Girl.

October 11th, 2011

A book report on a famous person. She chooses Anne Frank. She has never heard of Anne Frank but the book has a picture of a little girl on the cover. She is a little girl.
I leave her to leaf through the pages at her own pace, to discover her own meaning about something with no meaning. I finally ask her what she thought about the book. She says she doesn’t get it. I say, neither do I- but I don’t mean the book.

So we snuggle on the couch and go through it together. A discussion that has no words. A hate that has no reason. A following that has no mind. Endless unanswerable why questions claw their way out of each page. I move over to let them sit there with us. I squish up beside my little girl, glad to be closer.
But soon it’s too crowded on the couch -the two of us and the endless why’s. There is no room to sit comfortably anymore, so we sit on the edge.

I begin to cry tears she doesn’t yet know about. The whys pull them out of me from far away places and make them run down my face for her to see. I am thankful that she looks at me oddly. Not really getting it. And although neither of us really will understand, we need to try. We need to try for Anne, try for ourselves, and also for you. So I push on trying to find our way through the whys, a way through to knowing more about another.

But my little girl is done. She has had enough and leans forward from the edge of the couch. She shakes off the why’s letting them fall with a thud. Then takes something small from the table in front of us, and blows. Blows bubbles right then. It feels weird, out of place in the midst of  dark stories and the shaking of hopeless heads. Stop. This isn’t the right time for bubbles, but ofcourse it is. So in this tight cramped space bubbles float up and expand our room. I breathe in, she breathes out. I dry my tears. Her book report, Anne, the whys,  and everything that is just too hard in that moment float away in soft weightless hope filled balls. So we sit back and smile at a room filled with such playful distraction.

She had finally found a way through the whys. There are just no answers to some of life’s questions. Once she had listened, asked, doubted with her 9 year old mind  -this little girl’s heart needed bubbles of light and delight to carry her beyond the worlds pain. So she took what she could and then released them with life. Her breath in each bubble sent straight from her heart.
Here world, carry these to someplace safe.

Subscribe to Grassroots Back to Grassroots page

  1. There is no answer to why and her simple act of the bubbles tells me that life goes on, and we will be alright. Thank you.
    My daughter, 15 at the time, and I visited the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam last year. Startling, sad, amazing, and through all the sadness, she helped make it fun. Yes, fun. We actually found reasons to laugh, though we also had tears in our eyes throughout. Anne wanted life to be full of laughter too. So, it’s all good.
    Diana Fletcher, Author of Happy on Purpose Daily Messages of Empowerment and Joy for Women 

  2. meg says:

    What a wonderful journey Diana, and yes, my daughter knew just what to do with feeling so overwhelmed, she blew it gently away. We all need to find that release amidst pain. I’m glad you found your laughter.

  3. Margaret says:

    How wonderful that she can ask the question, and find her solution in her deep and playful breath to bring her back to her present.

  4. Debbie Lass says:

    I too, read Anne’s book when I was a child.  But I had no caring mother to share with…I buried the hurt and sadness, and to this day, get tears in my eyes at the mere mention of Anne’s name.  That’s OK…I will always wonder and question at man’s inhumanity.  And are we not all blessed to have Anne’s book with us still, as a reminder to young and old, to be patient, kind and thoughtful with those especially, who are different from us.  You are so very fortunate to have the time and interest to be with your daughter…the biggest gift you can give her!  I am a better grandmother because of what I didn’t have.  Good CAN come from unexpected places.  Thank you, Meg.  Debbie Lass

  5. meg says:

    Thank you for sharing Deb, you bring so much to this world.

  6. Kate says:

    RE: “There are just no answers to some of life’s questions.”  Did you read many enlightened people’s explainations on those kinds of questions?  Many famous sages from all traditions have said that the universe is an echo of our thoughts.  If we feel like a victim, we get victimized; if you feel unconditional love for yourself and others, you get it back; if you judge, you get judged; if you forgive, you get forgiven, etc.   It may be a different idea than you were brought up with, but if you’re interested in their perspective, that’s what they said.  No “blaming the victims” implied.

    Did you read many accounts of The Holocaust where the Germans explained why they did what they did?  They said that they were told from the time they were children that the Jews were responsible for all their suffering as well as that of their families and country.  Most people believe quite a lot of what they were told as children even if it is not accurate.  If you watch some documentaries on them you’ll see that North Koreans today are similarly mass brainwashed.   

  7. Your writing is incredibly beautiful.
    I am now creating ‘bubble land’ in my head –
    a place where all bubbles are always safe.
    Thank You!

  8. meg says:

    Thank you for your generous words, and keep blowing those bubbles!

  9. Your writing is lovely-narrative writing of a story that feels poetic as one wafts through it.  It reminded me of the time of just being with my little girl-such a comfy, we feeling.  My mother couldn’t quite relax enoughto do that but I could.  
    Debbie, grandmothers can be incredibly important.  Mine is long-gone, but she isn’t because I love her still.  And I am grateful for the encouragement she gave me and importance she bestowed on me, a little girl.
    Children do provide lessons, don’t they—when it all gets to be too much, blow bubbbles…
    Beautiful blog.

  10. Bronwyn says:

    That is the most beautifully written account of a childs innocence I have ever read.  Wonderful blog.

  11. I think Anne would have blown bubbles, too. She’d get that.

    Beautiful, just beautiful. 

  12. Sophia Grace says:

    Wow!  You are a gifted writer!!
    I am so moved.  And I hope that when this conversation comes up with my short people, that I can walk them through with as much grace as this.

  13. Meg says:

    Thank you so much.

  14. Vicky Hunt says:

    Poignant! Touching! I loved every word. Thanks for the meaningful blog.

  15. Susan Smarts says:

    This is so beautiful, it made me cry.  Children are so in touch with there souls its beautiful xx

  16. Virginia Urbach says:

    This reminds me of the time my 4 year old niece and I was in the garden that my husband had started.  He had passed away 2 months prior and as tears rolled down my cheeks remembering the days he would sit there in the garden, my niece asked me why I was crying. I told her I missed her Uncle Peter and she said “I don’t because he’s in heaven”. Children really are magnificent beings. 

  17. JåRīə Adåm OneSun says:

    hatea land of no hopeno queenno kinga heart that beats downshares not loveor a ringa lamp longing to lightafraid of the darka wait fore terrorto make its marka man still a boybeat by a belta woman not saveda little gave she’s delta place cold and emptywhere love did once livewhere GOD’s perfect angelsforgot how to giveheaven is lite by light for hatefollow the pathLOVE opens the gateJåRīə † 

  18. JåRīə Adåm OneSun says:

    I tried to write you a poemIAM sorrytwice it was a mess after I sent it. I don’t know why.It was beautiful.lost in translation.

Post a Comment: