She's twelve and dressed from school in her ratty comfortable clothes and her mother's borrowed high heel shoes. She's explaining to me what teacher's and classes she has this year that she likes and hates. She fills me in on what bullies are back this year & how there was only 5 minutes left to eat after she got through the lunch line.
I only ask an open ended question very rarely because she's become comfortable with what we call our "dump" sessions. Where it's safe to laugh, cry, be mad, or have a ton of questions about things she doesn't want to share with Mom & Dad.
There is always something deeply reveling as I just stay still and listen. "We have to pick two objects to take to our science class that describe us," she says. "I picked a really tiny gun for the violence in my life. I don't have one for sorrow yet. I wish I could just print a sad face off the internet, but mom will be on the computer."
The tragedy is that this isn't a street kid on Colfax. She lives in South Aurora, among the expensive homes & the Cherry Creek School District. Violence in children's lives does not except physical boarders or economic boundaries. I meet at-risk kids everywhere.
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