As Annie and Michael (who's as dark, tall and handsome as Joseph is blond and the same) sit side by side on his front stoop, this question drops like a hot rock out of Annie's mouth: Why does Joseph hate me?
Holding her breath, while two pairs of eyes look anywhere except at each other, Annie hopes to hear magic words, which may set her free from this evil spell.
However, as much as Michael is a wizard in school, he's every bit as twelve as Annie (and Joseph). As the blind can't lead the blind anywhere other than into the next wall, he shrugs his shoulders and looks as stymied as his friend's face is sad.
As Annie has no clue that she's in a maze and being that she's unaccustomed to asking for help (thank God this will change once she's an adult), she has to force herself to ask Michael if he can confirm the one puzzle piece that Georgie had placed in her hand.
Is it true that if I'm invited to a party, Joseph won't come?
This conversation is pushing Michael past the limits of his comfort zone, so staring at the ground, he simply says: Yeah.
With no clue that her tunneling adventure through life's hazy maze has just begun, Annie's done more than her fair share of squirming, as well, so she stands up and cuts through the tension by saying: It's almost time for dinner. I'd better go.
Luckily, just before Michael closes his front door, Annie glances up at him and feels somewhat mollified, because her heart senses that upon bidding his friend so long, her friend's eyes had extended the gift of compassion. So ...
Annie's instinct senses that she's chosen a safe person with whom to connect. And thus as we watch a twelve year old child in pain walk away, we can see why she'd feel somewhat comforted by the warmth of friendship emanating from Michael—while simultaneously feeling perplexed about Joseph—neutral about the other guys—and with no bonds of sisterhood in sight, common sense suggests that Annie has no good reason to expose her pain to any of the girls.
At every age, innocence is lost, repeatedly. This suggests that countless lessons lay ahead, which may (or may not) be absorbed by the spongy side of the brain. When Annie grows up, she'll develop the courage to seek honest answers to fearsome questions. And as a result of courage, a growing sense of insight into both sides of human nature will be her just reward.
At this point, all this child wants, in earnest, is to stop feeling like an outsider—and—for John to like her, smile at her, walk dogs with her, and invite her to a party, again. And she is utterly confused as to why she can't make this wish come true!
In short—Annie's not looking to fathom the depths of life and love. She just wants her life back. And with a sense of wistful yearning, years will pass before Annie understands that in lieu of a time machine, she can not go back, meaning that her only choice is to move forward. And in order to move forward, one must work to vaporize confusion, frustration, and bitterness rather than storing it up. The less bitterly brittle the brain, the more easily pathways leading toward understanding, compassion, and forgiveness expand. Whereas bitter memories exacerbate pain, compassion softens the heart to soak up love until one's cup 'overfloweth'. And that train of thought makes me ask—which path do you choose most often—with whom? The brittle, defensive, narrowly focused path? Or the spongy, compassionate one, leading toward compassion, forgiveness and peace?
It's important to note
That we do not offer
The positively focused side of ourselves
To everyone
Every place we go.
This close encounter with Michael leaves Annie walking home, feeling a little less alone. And as she has to pass Joseph's house to get to hers, she squares her shoulders, holds her head up high, and making certain not to glance toward his front yard, she picks up the pace until she's safely home, shutting the kitchen door behind her. After all, Joseph is not the only kid in town, hiding pain behind a false sense of pride. Though they look different at first glance, fear and anger may be one and the same.
As Annie will not consciously tunnel toward missing puzzle pieces for many years, what do you think she'll choose to do, next, when she returns to school and confronts the solid wall, blocking her from bonding trustfully with the high spirited, popular crowd, tomorrow? Will her spirit give up? Or not?
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