What are we going to do with you?
"Sorry" she said
as her siblings piled out
the open car doors
in the drop off lane.
The line behind
idled impatiently
while her hand scoured
the backseat crevices
for the dollar coin
she had misplaced
on the short ride to school.
"I gave her the dollar coin"
her mother remarked
on our way out the door
"for obvious reasons"
which meant one coin
would be easier to keep track of
than four quarters.
Fourth of six, second of two,
What are we going to do with you?
"What a waste"
She whimpered,
still searching unsuccessfully.
I twisted in my seat
looking at her through
sunglasses that obscured my eyes
but not my stern expression,
as I removed a dollar bill
from my wallet.
"Don't lose this" I almost said
but didn't, opting instead
for a simple "Here"
followed by the practiced
rapid-fire litany of parting phrases
as she bumped her way
out the open door
"have a good day"
"be good"
"see you after school"
"I love you"
"don't forget your backpack"
"close the door"
What a waste.
The words, the defeated tone,
rang in my ears
as I drove away.
It seemed an odd
observation for a first-grader
to make over a lost dollar
and as the words reechoed
I heard them anew
presaging the preteen
berating herself foreach simple mistake
pointing the words inward
Unforgiving, unflinching.
Fourth of six, second of two,
What are we going to do with you?
