Five

Piper is still sobbing. Twenty minutes ago I had to speak sharply to her. I am not proud that I lost my patience but it is late. I'm tired. I'm feeling a bit stressed with grading, scanning, and house hunting.  She was running around, terrorizing Camille and Umberto until they were yelling at her. I asked her to stop once, and attempted to refocus her energy but it didn't work. Finally after Camille lost it yet again and just kept screaming and screaming at Piper who only responded with hysterical laughter, I had to yell.

And then Piper stomped her big stomps and slammed walls and doors. Her rage spilling out of her tiny five year old body and lashing out onto the things around her. When I rushed into the room to quiet her, we live on a second floor apartment, she held out her arms to me. And I blew it with my frustration and impatience.  Those out held arms were begging for help. Pleading with me to help with this out of control anger.

I held her later and apologized. I smoothed her sweaty hair and kissed her checks wet with tears. Tears I wiped from swollen eyes.  Oh Piper, I tell her, Five is a hard age.

Oh Five. Five when you are not a baby nor a big girl. You are some where in the that awful middle. You can do so much and yet so little. There are all these feelings. You have so much energy. You do not always understand the hows and whys.

And Piper who is always exuberant and social finds herself among solitary types. Her extroverted self compels her to push against us until we meet her energy with either anger or resignation. But she can only be who she is and sometimes it is easy to forget this when we see her little body. That little wild cat, Piper, tiny and fierce. Joyful. Filled with dance and song.

Tonight I realize that I need to spend more time getting to know Piper. The next time she holds her arms to me, I will grasp them.