Detour

Thanksgiving with Sunbeam

        Stiff as could be, a small figure enclosed  in a purple and yellow striped winter coat sat, leaning back against the house’s white siding.  Eyes squeezed shut and lips pursed, she had the most contemplative look I’ve ever seen on a seven year olds face.  I meandered over near her.  The late November chill made me wish my coat was as bulky as hers.  Making a simple decision, I shoved brittle brown leaves aside and sat quietly by her, leaving a foot of space between us.  Hard and cold, the ground was rather uncomfortable.  Yet still, I leaned back becoming stiffer than a board and squeezing my eyes shut, crossing my legs sitting Indian style, and pursed my lips leaving my hands limp in my lap.  I waited three minutes, shocked by how patient she was.  Then, I heard playful laughter.

        “You’re here!” she sang, squirming her arms under mine so she could completely wrap me in a hug.  “And your hair has gotten longer.”

        Giving her a gentle squeeze back, I disentangled myself from the tackler so she could see my smile.  “Yeah.  I’m glad you’re here.”

         “Do you have a girlfriend yet?” she said in a conniving way.

        I ruffled her hair, but to my dismay it was braided so it wouldn’t mess up.  Her eyes were extremely wide when I stopped.  “Arg!  Jew!  My mommy did my hair special today.  Did you ruin it?”  That little girl had shame-on-you written all over her face and she put her hands on her hips.

              Laughing, I pushed the one strand I had dragged out back, “No, and no my little Sun Beam.”

           I couldn’t help but reminisce way back to the day we first met, seven Thanksgivings ago.  My dad’s little sister was ecstatic to bring her new treasure to show everyone.  Being a nine year old boy, I was an attention hog and when that babe swallowed in pink had everyone’s heart, I vowed to hate her.

           Three years passed and I was sitting after the big meal drowning in a story while enjoying a full stomach.  Kids ranging from five to ten years were destroying a leaf pile.  Many frosts left the leaves extra crunchy; that on top of the screams was bugging me.  Then a small finger poked my knee.  I looked to see a still babyish face framed in light wispy blonde that touched her shoulders.  Her pink coat seemed to eat her alive, yet she had fearless blue eyes that cut me to pieces inside.

           “What?” I had snapped.

           Her innocence kept her from caring.  “My mommy says you Jew.”

           This statement made me perplexed; my aunt knew where I stood religiously.  “I am not a Jew.”

           “Yes, you Jew!” she stared me down fiercely.

           Gears turned and finally I understood, “My name is Drew.  Not Jew.  Now who are you?  Little Miss Sunshine?”

           Apparently three year olds do not get sarcasm, “No, I’m Sum Bean.”

           “Sun Beam?”  To this day I don’t know why she told me that.  No one else had called her that ever according to her parents.

           “Yes,” she looked tired as she said that and sat beside me.

           Feeling uncomfortable, I knew nothing better to do than to stick out my hand for her to shake.  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sunbeam.”

           Gently, she took my hand with both of hers and just held it, “I know.”

           Something happened there, as I sat with her two little hands comfortingly holding mine.  She watched me while I read like someone who looks at someone who’s crying while saying I know how you feel.  Though she didn’t understand, she was melting my heart with her simplicity and innocent wisdom.