The front seat of the car made a comfortable haven from the biting cold of the January morning. Inside the car, the sun seemed like a warm friend instead of the ineffective tease that it was, no match for sub-zero temperatures. Lisa and Zibby could almost pretend spring was coming, ensconced in their heated seats, sipping their Saturday morning hot chocolate.
Lisa had just dropped off her older daughter at ballet, turning her over to the familiar chill of the wood-floored studio with its resiny smell and promise of a challenging workout. Getting hot chocolate and sitting in the car watching Main Street come to life was a Saturday morning ritual for Lisa and her younger daughter, Zibby, whose own ballet class would begin in 30 minutes. That half-hour was Zibby Time, a chance to review the week and talk about third grade with no distractions.
Picking up her steaming cup, Zibby sighed. "I love Saturday mornings," she purred. She switched her hot chocolate to her right hand, holding out her left to admire a bejeweled dragonfly ring which glimmered in the winter sunlight.
"I think it looks like a magic ring," Zibby exuded.
Absently, Lisa agreed. Her daughter's creative mind was always teetering on the cusp between this world and the imaginary kingdom of her imagination. Since having children, Lisa had realized that it was much more difficult for grown-ups to flit between fairy realms and princess castles and the real-life scenarios that demanded their attention on what seemed like a minute-to-minute basis. Lately, it seemed like she could barely manage one reality. At times, she almost longed for the safety of her daughter's imagination. It had been a long time since she had visited those magical places.
Almost imperceptibly, on the fringes of Lisa's consciousness, an uneasy feeling about the ring sprouted. She couldn't pinpoint her discomfort, so she turned in her seat and spoke to her daughter. "Zibby, where did you get that ring?"
"Oh, Grandma gave it to me for Christmas!"
Lisa settled back into her warm seat, squinting into the sun to look at the city clock tower. Twenty minutes until Zibby's class. Did she bring her ballet shoes? Did she have a coat? The little girl's voice interrupted Lisa's thoughts.
"...but I think Grandma got the ring at Shirley's Gift Shop because when Aunt Pat took me there yesterday, I saw some just like it!"
Lisa looked hard at the ring, glinting and sparkling as Zibby moved her hand. It did not look familiar at all. Lisa's sister had taken Zibby to Shirley's to pick out a new dress the day before. But stealing? Recently, her third grade teacher had confided that Zibby had cheated on a math test. The girl's ballet teacher had reluctantly made Lisa aware that Zibby had been struggling to concentrate in class, often doing handstands during barre work or humming under her breath. And making up stories! Stories that didn't make sense. And there were other minor reports, too, of little lies or playground skirmishes. Zibby seemed to lurch between rage and glee, alienating everyone around her with both her sullen, unkind words and her extreme enthusiasm. Each new episode, each incrimination, made Lisa feel like she was drowning again in the murky despair that was becoming unnervingly familiar. A mother, a good mother, should be able to repair the invisible cracks in her own daughter. With sickening clarity, Lisa knew where the ring had come from. She spoke very carefully.
"Zibby, did you steal that ring yesterday?"
"No!"
"Zib, Moms always know the truth, so I want you to tell me where it came from before I find out on my own."
Zibby looked down at her hand. From her daughter's expression, Lisa knew that the ring looked far less pretty to her daughter than it had a moment ago. Zibby's long, brown eyelashes fluttered. She didn't look up.
Lisa said in a voice so soft, it surprised her, "Do you think we should go back to the store and tell them what happened?"
The big, pink ribbon wrapped around Zibby's bun bobbed up and down as she nodded. At last, her amber eyes looked up beseechingly at her mother. Lisa was surprised at the pain she saw in them, and the relief.
Lisa was relieved, too, but for different reasons. Her mind was swimming in unfamiliar waters, trying to reconcile the image of a juvenile shoplifter with her beautiful, spirited child in her black leotard and pink tights, ready to jump out of the car carrying her favorite dance bag. Weren't shoplifters malcontent skater-tweens with ill-fitting clothes and safety pins in their eyebrows? Weren't they the long-haired misfits who hung around the mall while their parents worked long hours at bars? Lisa shook her head at her own biases, reluctantly admitting to herself that she was wrong. So wrong. But was her own daughter...bad?
Moments ago, Lisa had felt that the early spring sun was bringing new hope to her unravelling life. Now she felt like things were ruined all over again. Taking a pensive sip of her now-cold hot chocolate, Lisa looked at Zibby's small hands, resting in her lap, cupped tightly around the dragonfly ring, as if to erase its existence. Lisa felt the exact same way.
It wasn't until dance classes were over and Lisa and her daughters had had lunch and straightened up the house that Lisa faced the prospect of going back to Shirley's Gift Shop. It was a boutique that had been in business in her town since long before Lisa was born. She had registered for her wedding there and tried to support the store each time a baby shower or birthday party came up. She knew all the employees, mostly because some of them had gone to high school with her father. There was no chance Lisa would remain anonymous when she returned. Nevertheless, she had to, right? This was a chance to teach her daughter a valuable lesson about honesty and integrity.
Once again Lisa and Zibby were in the front seat of the car, this time, in front of Shirley's. Zibby twisted the ring nervously around her finger, taking it off, clenching it, putting it back on. Her head was solemnly bowed, but Lisa held her head at a determined angle, her terse motions filled with a resolve that Lisa hoped counterbalanced the bleak feeling of hopelessness that sat heavily in her stomach.
"Let's go, Zib," Lisa said, opening her car door.
"Mom? Do we have to do this? I'm too scared."
Lisa studied her daughter's face and, just for the smallest second, wished that she could just take her little girl into her arms and squeeze her until the past year ceased to exist. There was a time when everything had been right. Lisa didn't know when their reality had taken the first wrong turn, or how they had lost the map. There was no going back, but ahead, there was only darkness. She just knew that returning the dragonfly ring was one small course correction, one little candle she could light to stave off the blinding darkness.
"Don't worry, sweet little girl," she said, taking her daughter's hand. "I'll help you."
Lisa had just dropped off her older daughter at ballet, turning her over to the familiar chill of the wood-floored studio with its resiny smell and promise of a challenging workout. Getting hot chocolate and sitting in the car watching Main Street come to life was a Saturday morning ritual for Lisa and her younger daughter, Zibby, whose own ballet class would begin in 30 minutes. That half-hour was Zibby Time, a chance to review the week and talk about third grade with no distractions.
Picking up her steaming cup, Zibby sighed. "I love Saturday mornings," she purred. She switched her hot chocolate to her right hand, holding out her left to admire a bejeweled dragonfly ring which glimmered in the winter sunlight.
"I think it looks like a magic ring," Zibby exuded.
Absently, Lisa agreed. Her daughter's creative mind was always teetering on the cusp between this world and the imaginary kingdom of her imagination. Since having children, Lisa had realized that it was much more difficult for grown-ups to flit between fairy realms and princess castles and the real-life scenarios that demanded their attention on what seemed like a minute-to-minute basis. Lately, it seemed like she could barely manage one reality. At times, she almost longed for the safety of her daughter's imagination. It had been a long time since she had visited those magical places.
Almost imperceptibly, on the fringes of Lisa's consciousness, an uneasy feeling about the ring sprouted. She couldn't pinpoint her discomfort, so she turned in her seat and spoke to her daughter. "Zibby, where did you get that ring?"
"Oh, Grandma gave it to me for Christmas!"
Lisa settled back into her warm seat, squinting into the sun to look at the city clock tower. Twenty minutes until Zibby's class. Did she bring her ballet shoes? Did she have a coat? The little girl's voice interrupted Lisa's thoughts.
"...but I think Grandma got the ring at Shirley's Gift Shop because when Aunt Pat took me there yesterday, I saw some just like it!"
Lisa looked hard at the ring, glinting and sparkling as Zibby moved her hand. It did not look familiar at all. Lisa's sister had taken Zibby to Shirley's to pick out a new dress the day before. But stealing? Recently, her third grade teacher had confided that Zibby had cheated on a math test. The girl's ballet teacher had reluctantly made Lisa aware that Zibby had been struggling to concentrate in class, often doing handstands during barre work or humming under her breath. And making up stories! Stories that didn't make sense. And there were other minor reports, too, of little lies or playground skirmishes. Zibby seemed to lurch between rage and glee, alienating everyone around her with both her sullen, unkind words and her extreme enthusiasm. Each new episode, each incrimination, made Lisa feel like she was drowning again in the murky despair that was becoming unnervingly familiar. A mother, a good mother, should be able to repair the invisible cracks in her own daughter. With sickening clarity, Lisa knew where the ring had come from. She spoke very carefully.
"Zibby, did you steal that ring yesterday?"
"No!"
"Zib, Moms always know the truth, so I want you to tell me where it came from before I find out on my own."
Zibby looked down at her hand. From her daughter's expression, Lisa knew that the ring looked far less pretty to her daughter than it had a moment ago. Zibby's long, brown eyelashes fluttered. She didn't look up.
Lisa said in a voice so soft, it surprised her, "Do you think we should go back to the store and tell them what happened?"
The big, pink ribbon wrapped around Zibby's bun bobbed up and down as she nodded. At last, her amber eyes looked up beseechingly at her mother. Lisa was surprised at the pain she saw in them, and the relief.
Lisa was relieved, too, but for different reasons. Her mind was swimming in unfamiliar waters, trying to reconcile the image of a juvenile shoplifter with her beautiful, spirited child in her black leotard and pink tights, ready to jump out of the car carrying her favorite dance bag. Weren't shoplifters malcontent skater-tweens with ill-fitting clothes and safety pins in their eyebrows? Weren't they the long-haired misfits who hung around the mall while their parents worked long hours at bars? Lisa shook her head at her own biases, reluctantly admitting to herself that she was wrong. So wrong. But was her own daughter...bad?
Moments ago, Lisa had felt that the early spring sun was bringing new hope to her unravelling life. Now she felt like things were ruined all over again. Taking a pensive sip of her now-cold hot chocolate, Lisa looked at Zibby's small hands, resting in her lap, cupped tightly around the dragonfly ring, as if to erase its existence. Lisa felt the exact same way.
It wasn't until dance classes were over and Lisa and her daughters had had lunch and straightened up the house that Lisa faced the prospect of going back to Shirley's Gift Shop. It was a boutique that had been in business in her town since long before Lisa was born. She had registered for her wedding there and tried to support the store each time a baby shower or birthday party came up. She knew all the employees, mostly because some of them had gone to high school with her father. There was no chance Lisa would remain anonymous when she returned. Nevertheless, she had to, right? This was a chance to teach her daughter a valuable lesson about honesty and integrity.
Once again Lisa and Zibby were in the front seat of the car, this time, in front of Shirley's. Zibby twisted the ring nervously around her finger, taking it off, clenching it, putting it back on. Her head was solemnly bowed, but Lisa held her head at a determined angle, her terse motions filled with a resolve that Lisa hoped counterbalanced the bleak feeling of hopelessness that sat heavily in her stomach.
"Let's go, Zib," Lisa said, opening her car door.
"Mom? Do we have to do this? I'm too scared."
Lisa studied her daughter's face and, just for the smallest second, wished that she could just take her little girl into her arms and squeeze her until the past year ceased to exist. There was a time when everything had been right. Lisa didn't know when their reality had taken the first wrong turn, or how they had lost the map. There was no going back, but ahead, there was only darkness. She just knew that returning the dragonfly ring was one small course correction, one little candle she could light to stave off the blinding darkness.
"Don't worry, sweet little girl," she said, taking her daughter's hand. "I'll help you."
4 comments:
We are both up way too late. :) Beautiful post Circ. What will future chapters hold? None of us know. But I know that with Lisa guiding Zibby there is sure to be a happy ending. That is what I love most about the gospel. I know that even if our future is uncertain and challenging, the end result will be worth the trial. Zibby is sure lucky to have a mom like Lisa. A mom who has her eyes open, who is engaged, who is loving, and who can see the beauty and worth within the child.
The most comforting aspect is that there is a co-author, a heavenly parent who loves Zibby just as much as -- if not more than -- Lisa. We can lay our character and plot struggles at His feet. I agree with Jennie. All children should be so lucky to have a mother like Lisa.
....what happened? I'm dying for chapter 2! I remember stealing a pack of gum...I was so scared and mom made me take it back (half empty). I was bawling, but that was the end of my shop-lifting. It was terrifying and not worth the bad feelings. Glad I learned the lesson while I was young! Wonder if Zibby (love her) did too.
I love you Circ. You are wiser than you know and have some of the best instincts I've ever seen. I know Zibby is going to be OK.
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