"Arrivederci, Roma"

I shrug. It's not horrible, but it didn't make my heart feel like singing, either. The accompaniment is nice, though in general the arrangements here have been fairly good. I feel like I'm going through a primer of rhythmic and chordal patterns as used in Western popular music over the last hundred years.

This morning my daughter was hysterical. Tomorrow is her last day of school, and this, for her, means that she will not again be in school with her best friend, Rose. Two years ago a girl in her class that she quite liked, Alison, moved to California. Last year her good friend, Miriam, moved to Iowa. Comparatively, having Rose move to the North Side of Pittsburgh seems not so bad, but I'm afraid that it will be quite bad, indeed.

My daughter and Rose have known each other since they were two, and have been in school together and inseparable since their first year of Nursery. Four years of school together have only confirmed their friendship. They both will play with other classmates, but their teacher admits that they hold a certain ground as a pair. Rose's parents have bought a new house, and although they could continue to have Rose at this school, they plan to home school her and her younger sister next year. Knowing their family, I can see how this will be a good fit for them, and Rose is very excited about the idea.

My daughter is heart broken, and my heart aches for her. The worst of it is knowing that nothing I can say will comfort her now. My daughter is an only child, and she worries about having no one to play with, no one to talk to at school as well as no one at home.

I know that she is adaptable, that she will find a way to cope. I know that unexpected things happen: another member of her class may develop into a better friend, or someone will move into our community this summer or fall who will find her Waldorf school a good match for their child, their child who might be a good friend to my daughter. I also know that these things may not happen. Surprises do happen, gifts from the world at large, but there are no guarantees. I also know that I am projecting some of my own pain onto this--pain from my own childhood, pain from adulthood--loss of friends at any age is not something that I'm able to accept lightly. My throat felt tight all day. I wanted to cry for her and release this pain for her. Knowing that this is in no way possible did not lessen my desire.