April and Her Empathy

After Apes got home from work today, we collapsed on the couch to catch up on each others day.

She swung her legs over the arm of the couch and rested her head in my lap, launching into a monologue about all the struggles kids have as they make their way through high school.

As a therapist, she's pretty much seen it all.

While not a dark conversation, the tone was serious and I looked down at her earnest blue eyes, shaking my head in agreement.

She went on to tell me how difficult she had it in 7th grade.

"I mean, it was hard, even back then. Really, really hard. Everyone was changing and I didn't want to change. Like...I got my period and I HATED that! My mom knew how upset I was and all she could say was, 'Well, I hoped that wouldn't happen to you...'".

Dude. I couldn't help it. I had to laugh.

I can totally see April's mom saying that to a young April, so desperate to get her daughter to stop crying.

But it gets better.

Apes shut me up so she could finish telling me the rest of her traumatized youth story.

"In 6th grade, I had it ALL. I was top dog. I won every award you could win, girls didn't really like boys yet, teachers loved me, and...AND I was CAPTAIN OF THE SAFETY PATROL! I was someone in 6th grade! Then I had to go to a new school and everything was different."

Ya'll, she said that with a tear in her eye. She felt that pain in her toes. Still. There was no sarcasm in her voice.

Sister is damn proud of her safety patrol history and of the "staff" she had in her final year of adolescent happiness.

I peed my pants a little.

The conversation ended.

The Real, Real World.

April, from her recliner in the living room: "Hey, Heather?"

Me, from my office chair: "Yup?"

Her, missing her filter: "When are you going to shave your legs so we can play tennis again?"