Chapter 9
Ella
Friday
“So, we’ll be setting up stands over the next week, and many more local businesses are joining this year. The stands will be all around the square. It’s going to be a big event!” I continued our conversation.
“That’s great, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see the venue,” my mom said, handing me the washed pan for me to dry with a dishcloth. I liked having alone time with my mom, even if it meant chopping vegetables and washing pans.
“And school starts in ten days,” she reminded me. “Senior year. Are you excited?”
“I am.” I looked up from my pan to smile at her. “I love high school. I can’t believe I’ll be moving to college in a year.”
“Your brothers and sister will miss you terribly. They’re not used to having their big sister away.”
“Oh, I’ll come home so many times!” I quickly assured her.
My mother gently patted my arm, making a beat of silence — purposeful or not — that made me pay attention to her next thoughts.
“But sweetheart, you have a bright future ahead of you,” she said with a soft smile. “I want you to live it. Your concerns. Your priorities. Your own life. Fully.”
My eyes smiled back. My mother knew I felt needed here. But somehow, my shoulders relaxed downward, as if her words and her silence were releasing the tension built up in them.
I looked back at her. Her face softened, her eyes tenderly thanking me for being here for them, for her. And allowing me to fly.
02:05 p.m. I was hurrying down the hall to get to the meeting.
Five minutes late. Actually, I was already at the CIC when the meeting started, five minutes ago.
I had arrived at the CIC twenty minutes earlier, to be precise.
I was working on my commitment to punctuality.
But the kindergarten distracted me when I went to visit my little best friends, who had just made me a matching pink bracelet after I complimented theirs.
A piece of me considered becoming a kindergarten teacher.
My favorite part of volunteering at the CIC was when I was on the Tuesday shift after school hours, to stay with the children until their parents could pick them up.
I helped them do their homework; played at our imaginary restaurant; got everyone painting; or entertained them with the art of making accessories, like the pink bracelet.
I got to the meeting room and greeted everyone with a general hello. They were all seated. Except for Miss Amara, who was already standing in front of the chairs organizing the next steps out loud.
I sat next to Gloria, a woman whose time had put her in a wheelchair, but whose wrinkled hands were still better at manual crafts than any of us, the other 20 volunteers in the room. She was one of the people in charge of the decorations.
Almost everything had already been planned and done.
Materials had been collected, decorations had been made, permissions had been granted, local businesses had signed up for stalls.
Not all the volunteers who helped make this possible were sitting here in this room; it was impossible to get us all available on the same day at a specific time.
Even so, everyone did work together without being together.
I was slowly looking around the room, observing the pleasant faces.
They were nodding along with Miss Amara’s words, knowing that they had helped make it happen.
And my eyes stopped at Miles’s eyes, looking at me from the other side of the room, sitting at the last row.
His lips drew a smile, and he raised his left hand in a small wave.
I instantly smiled back, I hadn’t known if he would come, if he wanted to, but something inside me felt an undeniable and quiet happiness that he was here.
“So we will need to spread the last flyers, let everyone in town know that the three-day festivities are about to begin!” Miss Amara said when my attention focused back on her words.