Walking to School with Charlotte

Every once in a while my schedule allows me to enjoy a slower morning (not the crazy scramble for a 6:30 departure, followed by a 45 minute commute, and a 7:30AM class start time). On these rare mornings, instead of rushing off to school, I accompany Charlotte to her school.

It is a short walk. Just a meander, really. Up our brick-paved street, past the columns of towering palm trees, a morning greeting of "Salamat Pagi" with the embassy guards at  the green gate, across the street from, Hero, our neighborhood grocery store, and next to the flower stalls. 

All along the way, Charlotte stops to smell and pick flowers. She wears a uniform, and I love to see her in her red plaid dress. A little school girl.

She collects a bouquet of flowers for her teacher, Ms. Sheryl, while keeping up a constant stream of chatting...about her school, her projects, her friends (Adam, Matthew, and Sienna), and her dance class. I nod and answer "uhuh" in the affirmative so she knows I'm listening. She pauses only long enough to hand me a flower to smell. 

Once we've entered the wooden doors to the school, Charlotte picks up her name tag. We climb the stairs together then she places her backpack at the "bag drop" near the front door of her classroom. I'm impressed by the neatness and order of things. Games and activities line the floors and tables, ready for the students.

When it is time for me to leave, Charlotte hugs me in an over-dramatic way. She clings to my neck, monkey-style, and grunts with the exertion of the hug. Then she looks over her shoulder to make sure Ms. Sheryl is taking note of this display of affection.

After I extricate myself from Charlotte's enthusiastic goodbye, I walk back down the stairs and begin my commute to work. It is always a bittersweet moment...where I try to balance my gratitude for Charlotte, her unconditional love, her great school, our walk together, and wondering if I made the right decision to work full-time.

I love my little girl so much. She is my sunshine.