Having never changed schools, I’d no clue that new kids rarely break into well-established clicks right away. However that unrealistic expectation pales in comparison to the experience that's about to bring me to my knees.
With no clue that change is a mixed bag of tricks, I open the back door to our new house and follow Lauren into Mom's brand new, green and melon kitchen. After offering mom a quick kiss, I slide onto the padded bench that makes up one side of the booth, flanking our breakfast table—which I think is cool. Then, I down a snack and jabber away about my first day in school until Mom points to the wall clock and cautions me to watch the time. After gulping down the rest of my milk, I run up stairs into the huge, sunny bedroom, which Lauren and I had just begun to share.
Now, I set my notebook and fifth grade texts on top of my desk and sweep a short stack of Hebrew books into my arms. Right before running back down the stairs, I stop just long enough to glance around. And what I see makes me smile, because every piece of French provincial furniture is brand new. And even if the furniture isn't really French, at least it's brand new! I mean in addition to having twin desks, Lauren and I are each sleeping in our very own beds! And now that Grandma has a room of her own and doesn't have to sleep on the sunporch, as she did in the apartment, my grandma's as happy to have reclaimed her double bed as Lauren and I are to sleep in twin beds of our own.
As memory recaptures that moment, it’s easy to see why I assume my pipe dream will fall in line with the extraordinary life with which I've been blessed. So when a honking horn signals the arrival of my ride, I dash down the stairs and out the front door with nary a care, because all I sense is adventure in the air. And with my Hebrew books pressed like a shield against my chest, I’ve no reason to suspect that my self-confident, high flying spirit is about to be shot down—BIG TIME!
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