My unit is closing in two weeks. It's heartbreaking, for the staff and the kids; the news came from nowhere, and in truth, we're all still in shock. It only just hit me today that I only have a few more days to make an impact in the lives of these fantastic children, and I fully admit that I wept.
I will miss them.
There are so many people out there that would be shocked at that; these kids have caused me all sorts of trouble, called me all sorts of names, but I will miss seeing them smile when I walk in, the eager clamoring of them asking which group I'm running today. I was only there a short time, but somehow I have managed to become a part of their lives.
I will miss seeing one of my favorite boys, the worst troublemaker we have (of course!!) and hearing his excited greeting and a reminder that I am his favorite staff.
I will miss losing at Monopoly every week, getting a little closer to winning each time.
I will miss playing basketball with them, how encouraging they are, even though we all know I'm a terrible player.
I will miss them teaching me how to throw a perfect spiral, and their impressed laughter when it actually makes it across the field.
I will miss being offered little pieces of artwork, some signed, some not, all varying degrees of skill, that I keep on my clipboard and glance at when things get difficult.
I will miss learning how to play Magic with them. I loved to play it, even though I KNOW they all cheated.
I will miss the fantastic staff I work with, how encouraging and uplifting they are. To be greeted with a genuine smile at the beginning of my shift is just so wonderful after my last jobs.
I will miss the love that we all had, for each other, for the kids, and the pride we took in our work.
I will miss the jokes, the poking fun and the laughter.
Most of all, I will miss their expressions of wonder as I weave magic into the air. They love hearing my stories almost as much as I love telling them. Tonight, I begged my muse for one last story, a goodbye story, one that I can leave with them as a message of hope. Preferably one that I can tell without bursting into tears.
He smiled a little at me for that, touched my hair with his fingers, and murmured out a small tale that is meant to be at the end of a much longer collection of tales. He broke it down, sentence by sentence, word by word, and offered me hope through it. I'll share the last bit here, even though these stories are sacred and are meant to be spoken only:
"And Cieran lay back, staring at the stars. Absently he twined his fingers through the tangled fur of the wolf who slept beside him, and he remembered. He thought of Jade, of her bright smile and flashing eyes, her fierce loyalty and love for her crew, and he missed her. He thought of the men that he worked beside, of their faithfulness to each other and respect for the woman who led them, and he missed them. He thought of the waves, of the wild waters and dangerous winds, and, yes, missed them too. He felt his heart throb hollowly, and he closed his eyes to keep back the tears.
"The wolf beside him, as if sensing his sorrow, licked his fingers gently, and he felt some of the pain fade. He did not know it then, but the wolf would bring to him a great many adventures, and a great love as well, and, in time, he would come to realize that every goodbye brings with it a hello, and that the end of a season is not the end of the world, but the beginning of a new adventure.
"In this one moment, however, all Cieran felt was the warm comfort of a loyal animal, and he turned on his side and slept.
"And he dreamed of possibilities."
No comments:
Post a Comment