An Open Letter

originally written thursday march 3rd, 2011:

Dear Little Girl on the bus on Monday, February 28th,

I was alone, I was on my way to an orthodontist appointment. I don't think you know what that means. I'll tell you this: it's not very interesting. And maybe one day you will, like me, come to detest the two words together.

You are probably around 4 years old. Which means I can hear you the whole bus ride. Your giggle makes me giggle, your colorful clothes make me smile, your short, bright blonde hair and your tiny nose make my heart melt.

One day, you will probably be miserable, depressed beyond belief. One day you will probably be so happy, thinking that you have everything even when you don't. Probably thinking the universe is lining up for you...for once. This will happen in any order, will go back and forth repetitively.

Probably.

Also, you'll have people lie to you. Grown-ups, peers, friends, kids younger than you. Most of them won't tell you they're lying. At least not right away.

Which is why I am telling you that what I said before was a lie. I wasn't thinking about your hair and your little nose and your laugh. Maybe I think those things now.

But then I was thinking about myself, lost in my own thoughts, not paying attention. I was thinking about my science exit project. And how I am stuck in this weird in-between phase where I'm not sure if I'm depressed or happy. And England. And also about one person in particular.

Which is why I was unaware of my foot sticking out just the slightest bit, probably just an inch too far. Which is why, as you were getting off the bus, you tripped and stumbled over my foot. Which is why, even though you didn't fall, my heart sank and I yelled out "Sorry!" as quickly and sincerely as I could in those few seconds.

I don't think you heard me.

Which is why it took me a full day to admit it to myself. two, actually. Wednesday afternoon I was alone at home.

"I tripped a little girl on the bus on Monday," I said to the open air, the emptiness, the nothing, to the world and to the universe and to you, who will never hear it, and is very, very unlikely to ever read this letter.

So there it was for a moment, hanging in the air, existing. And then it disappeared.

Sincerely,

The girl on the bus who accidentally tripped you.

P.S. Sorry.