I had planned to write a blog post on my observations on the way in which Hatty makes friends. She has made so many on this summer RV trip. Typically, she begins by scouting out the campground for signs that there are children of her age. Even if she does not see them she recognizes the clues outside the trailers and RVs: toys, children's chairs and so on. Though it is quiet she will get on her bike and start circling the campground, like a shark, single-minded in pursuit of its goal: friends.
That is not to say she cannot spend time by herself. In San Diego I met her by the store and asked why she was not on the jumping pillow. The other kids she explained were just trying to bounce her off. I used to worry that rejection would be too hard to bear but in reality she is well aware of just how mean spirited others can be. Her reaction is not to lose confidence but simply to move on. When I met her by the store she was thoughtfully watching the arcade game. It was a gun range type game - we do not encourage her viewing guns as toys so she is not allowed to play but she was still fascinated by how the machine worked. It was set up like an old garage with one of the cars from the Disney movie and periodically some part of it would come alive. She was content to watch this from a distance while waiting for a new friend.
She has touched so many lives. Often the parents will come and tell us directly how wonderful she has been. They are also curious to see, I suppose, whether she is telling the truth because so much of our story is unusual. I confirm that we live in New York City and that she was born in California. Her accent is so English to them as we hear more and more the American idiom. Often times I get the sense of parents grateful for her reaching out to their otherwise shy children.
The original plan for this post was somewhat glib and centered around the shark idea. Yet this morning I was hit for six and the story takes a more serious tone. I received an email from the father of one of her very good friends from the early days of the adventure. He did not quite know how to tell me in email so he just came straight out with it. His wife, Hatty's five year old friend's mother was killed two weeks ago in a road traffic accident.
He told me that they were, unsurprisingly, still lost but one thing they did was to look through photographs. The girl would list the family and friends that she did still have with her in the world and invariably Hatty was mentioned in that list.
I had been dwelling recently on the fact that the trip was short and indeed we are entering the home stretch. I hardly knew what to say to him except to promise that whatever it took we would stop off in their home state on the way home. So there it is, I have much on my mind just now but the words just do not seem enough. I'll dwell instead on what I hope and believe to be the power of friendship, precious in those moments that are far away from happiness, a bulwark in the most capricious of times.
That is not to say she cannot spend time by herself. In San Diego I met her by the store and asked why she was not on the jumping pillow. The other kids she explained were just trying to bounce her off. I used to worry that rejection would be too hard to bear but in reality she is well aware of just how mean spirited others can be. Her reaction is not to lose confidence but simply to move on. When I met her by the store she was thoughtfully watching the arcade game. It was a gun range type game - we do not encourage her viewing guns as toys so she is not allowed to play but she was still fascinated by how the machine worked. It was set up like an old garage with one of the cars from the Disney movie and periodically some part of it would come alive. She was content to watch this from a distance while waiting for a new friend.
She has touched so many lives. Often the parents will come and tell us directly how wonderful she has been. They are also curious to see, I suppose, whether she is telling the truth because so much of our story is unusual. I confirm that we live in New York City and that she was born in California. Her accent is so English to them as we hear more and more the American idiom. Often times I get the sense of parents grateful for her reaching out to their otherwise shy children.
The original plan for this post was somewhat glib and centered around the shark idea. Yet this morning I was hit for six and the story takes a more serious tone. I received an email from the father of one of her very good friends from the early days of the adventure. He did not quite know how to tell me in email so he just came straight out with it. His wife, Hatty's five year old friend's mother was killed two weeks ago in a road traffic accident.
He told me that they were, unsurprisingly, still lost but one thing they did was to look through photographs. The girl would list the family and friends that she did still have with her in the world and invariably Hatty was mentioned in that list.
I had been dwelling recently on the fact that the trip was short and indeed we are entering the home stretch. I hardly knew what to say to him except to promise that whatever it took we would stop off in their home state on the way home. So there it is, I have much on my mind just now but the words just do not seem enough. I'll dwell instead on what I hope and believe to be the power of friendship, precious in those moments that are far away from happiness, a bulwark in the most capricious of times.
