My Popsicle Stick

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I remember being at my aunt Bonnie’s house when I was younger. She was babysitting me, and back then she was 16 and I was 7. She had left me alone, sitting on the couch as she ran to her room to answer the phone. I thought nothing of it, knowing that she would of course come back to play with me. She would come back and make fun of the character on TV. She would imitate it. Singing its songs and dancing around like it did. I waited a while for her. The cartoon character on TV was teaching me how to share. Sharing is good. Sharing is good. Being selfish is bad. You need to share your toys. I thought to myself, I share. I am a good girl. I felt satisfied.
Soon I started to wonder where Bonnie was. She has not come back yet and the show was over. She told me we would go outside when it was over. Where was she? I got up from the couch and walked towards the back of the house. Before I could walk into the hallway, I found her. There she was on the floor, crying with the phone next to her. She did not notice that I sat down next to her and hugged her. I hugged her because she was older and could not be sad. She was not allowed to be sad. Not when I was there. She had to be happy and talking to me and telling me funny stories. But she wasn’t. She was sitting there crying with her head down.
I told her I loved her. I love you. I passed her my popsicle stick that I had saved for an art project from earlier. It said, Knock, knock? Who’s there? Olive. Olive who? Olive you! She told me she loved me too, and kept crying. I thought telling her that someone loved her would help. I did love her and I wanted her to be happy. Everyone loved her. Did she not know that? And what was most important was that I loved her. That was all that I thought mattered. I expected her to be ok and stop crying and come and play with me. That’s what I thought. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know the reason why she was sad. Why she was crying with such emotion. I didn’t know that someone had just called her and told her that things would not work out. I didn’t know someone had just called her and told her on the phone that he didn’t love her. I didn’t know. And I didn’t know that she still loved him.





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