The Girl on the Playground

Every day I look forward to seeing her. What will she be wearing today? This bold little thing, mixing her colors, her stripes and prints, her leggings and boots. Her hair is cropped short and swings easily as she turns her head.  A smile, a laugh, a quick word to her friends.

I watch for her, on the way in to school in the morning, on the way out at the end of the day. Catching a glimpse of her puts a smile on my face and makes my day.

After school I sit at the picnic table on the playground watching my children, talking to the other mothers, I wait for her. I hear her voice. I watch her surreptitiously sneaking a peek out of the corner of my eye. She heads straight for the swings most days. It doesn't matter what her friends choose to do. Once there she sets herself flying, leaning back, legs and arms outstretched, ever higher. And she sings, out loud, boldly. Her sweet clear voice threaded among the playground sounds of children's voices and laughter.  Someone says to me "She's really come into her own this year." and I have to agree.

I don't know this girl beyond her name and her face. What makes her happy or sad, who are her friends, how she's doing in school. I don't know her story or her family. But I know she embodies the girl I wish I could have been.

I was broken, shy, scared all the time. I had no confidence. I wasn't comfortable in my own skin. I hated the fuzzy mop of curls on my head. I never would have sung out loud while I reached for the sky. I didn't know what to wear and worried about what people would think. I was the girl walking by myself with my shoulders hunched and my head down.

Perhaps the girl on the playground agonizes at home while she puts on those incredible outfits. Perhaps she despairs of doing anything with her straight hair and so cut it all off. Perhaps she has days when she is lonely and her mother doesn't understand her and her friends are mean.

Perhaps.

But I'd rather think that the girl on the playground has found her magic. That she believes in herself and that she sings out loud, proudly, for all of those other girls who have gone before and are yet to come, who have lost their confidence and their voice.

Soon the girl on the playground will move on to high school and I won't  see her anymore. I hope, as she's swallowed up in the masses of other teenagers that she keeps her smile, her confidence, her voice. I hope she always remembers what it feels like to fly. I hope she always has the strength to follow her own path. I hope she always stands strong and let's her voice ring out loud, proud and bold.

This is the girl I wish I could have been.

This is the girl I hope my daughter becomes.

This girl  gives me hope.