In their short lives, they have lived in 2 different states (3 for Calen), 3 different cities (again, 4 for Calen), multiple schools, and have said goodbyes to more friends than I have in my entire 31 year lifetime.
That's hard on 5 and 7 year olds.
Granted, my kids are also uniquely strong because of this. Their adaptation skills are higher than the vast majority of their peers. They are socially very outgoing and make friends faster than you can say "meet me at the playground." The word "moving" isn't scary or foreign to them. All in all, I'm in awe of their strength, their resilience, their ability to adapt and overcome.
But that doesn't mean they don't have bad days. And today was a bad day for Calen.
In the near year that we've lived here, Calen made quick close friends with 3 boys that live in the neighborhood. He's classmates with two of them, neighbors with the other. And they play almost every day after school.
Two of those boys move out of state this week. One of them moves tomorrow.
In all the years that we've watched friends (and ourselves) come and go, I still haven't found the right words to say to my kids as they cry over the loss of another friend. I don't know how to comfort them. I don't know how to comfort myself. My kids are hurting and there's nothing I can do.
We were supposed to go to Calen's end of season baseball party tonight. But it was the last day he could play with his buddy Cash. We had invited him over after school, and they and his other friends were having an epic water fight in the back yard. As the minutes ticked by to when we needed to get ready to leave for the party, I watched the boys from the back door. No. This silly end of season party was not important. These last precious minutes in the backyard with Calen's favorite Petaluma friends, that was important. I pulled Calen aside to verify what he would prefer to do, go to the party, or spend the entire evening with Cash? His answer was crystal clear. Stay with Cash. So we cancelled. And I'm so glad we did.
The laughter from the back yard was contagious as they tried to fill up their own water balloons, but the balloons kept exploding in their faces. The yard turned into a swamp, and I'm sure the state of California will be infuriated by my water wasting skills in the middle of a five year drought. But the memories that my kids made tonight with their friends was priceless.
Cash stayed for dinner and watched a movie with us before it was finally time to go home. Calen and I walked him back to his house, and we said our goodbyes. The joy of the past few hours crumbled and Calen sobbed as we walked back home. Another friend gone. And there's nothing I can do to fix it.
By the time we reached the house, Calen was perking up. We will write him letters, like we do his other friends in other cities. We will Facetime, or Skype. And chances are, we might cross paths again. And then the golden rule that military kids know, that I've told Calen before, and Calen recited to me today. "You know, an empty house means a new family will move in. Maybe there will be lots of boys that move in this summer."
These kids are a lot tougher than I could ever be.
And that's the cycle of a military child. They make friends fast. Their hearts break when they leave. And then new kids move in, and they heal, and make friends fast.
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| Petaluma buddies: Cash, Julian, Calen and Robert. Cash and Julian both moved this week. |
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