I think it was the first day of second grade when the after-school daycare bus didn't show up to get me from school like it was supposed to. I sort of remember walking home that afternoon, back through the pathway of alleys between fenced in backyards that I'd walked that morning. I didn't have a key to the apartment, so I went and asked the manager to let me in. I dragged a chair (the same ones are in my kitchen now) to the wall in the kitchen where the phone was, and dialed my mom's work number.
She ended up calling the daycare, asking them how my first day was going. Oh, she's great! They said. Super groovy. No worries. Or whatever 1977 slang was for It's all good. Really? My mother said, Would you mind just putting her on the phone for a second?
I've always been an independent kind of girl, but I think that story really cemented my reputation.
So, last night SG stopped by for a little bit to help me with some excel stuff and say hey to the kids. When he left, I walked him out so I could tell him goodbye. We stood there near his car, standing in the street a little bit since he was parked at the curb. He'd just opened the back door to put some things inside, so he had his back to the car and I had my back to the street. We were talking quietly, his head was bent down toward me, his arms around me, and a car came down the street, fast. He looked at it and pulled me closer to him all at once. Nothing about his movements were sudden; I very likely could have missed the whole thing if I'd been in the middle of telling him a story or something. But I noticed. And then he said something about how the cars go too fast down my street, but all I could think of was how very nice it felt to have him want take care of me like that. I know it sounds like a small thing, but he pulled me closer because he wants to be sure I'm okay. And for me, right now, that is huge. It feels really, really nice.