It’s me,
Lynda. I guess you would remember me as
Linda with an i, living on Butternut
Street in our little Wisconsin town. I
remember the fun times we had in second grade.
I loved riding my bike over to your house in the summer, and hanging out
in your little outdoor pool. You were a
good friend and I liked playing with you often.
So I don’t know why we got into an argument at school recess one
day. It wasn’t even just me—our good
friend Kandyce got in on the action too.
We picked a fight with you, and nothing justifies that, not even in
second grade. Kandyce and I spent an
hour after school writing on the blackboard and paying for our misdeeds. Our second grade teacher was a real “gem”
too, which made it all a hundred times worse. I hated disappointing
her!
When my
granddaughter entered second grade four years ago, I told her what a “tomboy” I
was at her age, and how I had gotten into trouble decades before as a second
grader. So I teasingly said to her, “Don’t
follow your grandmother’s example.” And
of course she sensibly replied, “I can’t believe you did that, Grandma.”
And yet I
think she’s always known about my occasional mischievous deeds; they still pop
up in different ways, although now it’s more often about doing unconventional
things, just because that’s a strong part of who I am. From that day on, we established the name Eloise as our secret password as Morgan
headed out the door to school. A wink
from Grandma, a smile and a kiss from Morgan, and our shared password started
our day off in a unique, silly way.
Occasionally
I’ve told Morgan that I still wish I could apologize to Eloise, even after 58
years. So here goes-- Wherever you are, my second
grade friend, I’m sorry for being the bully that day. I’ve grown up a lot since then, and my granddaughter
can finally be proud of me for making amends.
** “That is
what learning is. You suddenly
understand something you’ve understood all your life, but in a new way.” (Doris Lessing)
