Out of the Mouth of Babes

Charlotte was a pretty child, but small for her age; not small
enough to seem "different" but not big enough to discourage the other
children on the playground from taunting and teasing her and generally
making her life miserable. It's a shame she never outgrew it.
"Hey, get out of the way! We're trying to play kickball!"
"I want to play!" she said, planting her feet firmly in on first base
line.
"Go away! We don't want you!"
"I'm not moving unless you let me...."
A sudden, dull impact to the side of her head followed by a hollow
ringing sound caused Charlotte to cut her sentence short. A large red
mark the size of a kickball began to form on the side of her face even
before she hit the ground where she skinned both knees.
"See, stupid?" shouted one of the bigger kids. "See what happens when
you don't get out of the way?"
Getting up from her knees, Charlotte turned her tear-streaked face up
to a circle of uncaring frowns.
"I'm not stupid!" she cried. "Mamma says I'm just slow; I can't help
it!"
She ran blindly to the corner of the playground where she sat down
alone to console herself.

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Sitting on a cold metal chair that had only the barest of padding,
Charlotte stared across an ancient, cluttered desk at a man who looked
like he could easily have been Noah's grandfather. She chewed nervously
on her bottom lip while she waited for him to speak.
"I suppose you know why I called you to my office, don't you?"
"I'm not sure," she answered, "but I think it's probably because I
messed up again."
"That's right. I wanted to see if you remembered what we talked about
last time. Do you remember?"
She fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair before speaking. "You said that
if I messed up again that you would have to let me go?"
"That's right, Charlotte. I know things are a little harder for you,
and I've made allowances, but I can't do that anymore. I'm
sorry."
Mr. Whitaker pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and
picked up a small stack of folded cash register tapes, looking down at
them almost sadly.
"I've really kept you on longer than I normally would have," he said,
"but these tapes show me that you've made mistakes every night this
week, some of them serious. Last Tuesday, you were panicking just
because someone told you to hurry up. If Angie hadn't been there to
calm you down, I don't know what might have happened!"
"I'm sorry Mr. Whitaker, I just get so tense when I feel rushed that I
make mistakes; I can't help it." She lowered her head and a nervous
tear slid down her cheek. She hated that she cried every time she got
worried or upset.
Mr. Whitaker cleared his throat and looked down, fishing a handkerchief
out of his back pocket. Offering it to her, he said, "I'm sorry,
Charlotte, it's costing me too much to let you keep working here.
She took his handkerchief and stood, wiping her eyes.
As she turned to go, Mr. Whitaker called her name, "Charlotte."
She stopped, but didn't turn back.
"I know this is your first job and it was really important to you, but
you'll find another; I promise."
"Thank you Mr. Whitaker," she said, choking back another round of
tears.

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Charlotte stirred the potatoes again, then checked the oven; the bread
was fine, everything was almost ready.
She scurried into the den with Jeff's plate saying, "I made pork chops,
just the way you like them: baked, with brown sugar, ketchup, onion and
a slice of lemon!"
Jeff's gaze never left the video clip that was being played by the
sports announcer on the 6 o'clock news.
Charlotte set the plate down on the TV table in front of Jeff and went
back to the kitchen. She returned and placed a basket of rolls and a
tub of butter on the end table, then went back into the kitchen,
walking quickly to the stove.
She stirred the potatoes again. Maybe they were ready.
"What's taking so long in there?" Jeff called out.
"Nothing! I'm coming right out!" Charlotte put the ladle back into the
pot and rubbed both hands on her apron. They were sweating.
"Here I come!" she said, picking up the pot and carrying it out to the
den.
She spooned out a portion of mashed potatoes onto her plate, and then
another onto Jeff's. She hesitated for a moment, but when he only
continued to watch the news program, she breathed a quiet sigh of
relief and went to the kitchen to return the potatoes to the
stove.
When Charlotte came back to the den, she stopped dead in her tracks.
She didn't want to believe what her eyes were telling her. Fear swam
through her veins and did a flip in her stomach.
Jeff was standing, and next to his work boot, on the hardwood floor of
the den, lay a steaming pile of mashed potatoes.
"How many times do I have to tell you," Jeff said in a low, even tone,
"that I hate lumpy potatoes? I work all day so you can have a place to
live, and all I ask for is a nice hot meal when I get home. Is that too
much to ask?"
Charlotte cowered against the tirade that her seven months of marriage
had taught her was coming next.
"Instead, I come home and supper's not ready," he continued. "When you
finally do get it ready, the meat is tough and the potatoes are lumpy.
Where did you learn to cook, anyway?"
And thus, another long, tempestuous night began. Tempers flared,
tension ran high, and Charlotte lost herself in a sea of emotion.
Where was the happiness, she wondered. Where was the joy? Marriage
wasn't supposed to be like this, was it? Where was the love?
Charlotte cried herself to sleep that night, not for the first time,
and definitely not for the last.

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Crying herself to sleep had become a habit. Life had not been easy for
young Charlotte, but at least going to bed wasn't quite as difficult as
it had been four months ago, before the separation.
Amazingly, for all his gripes and complaints, Jeff didn't seem to want
to be rid of her at all. It seemed more like he'd rather have her and
complain than to be relieved of her and her multitude of errors. When
she told him that she was leaving, it was as if she were trying to rob
him of a prized possession; she finally had to have a restraining order
issued against him.
Charlotte hoped that by attending a friend's out-of-state wedding, she
might give herself a change of scenery and a chance to clear her mind.
She didn't count on the flood of emotion she would experience
there.
She was fine all throughout the ceremony; at least, that is until the
bride kissed the groom. It was at this point that she got up and
quietly slipped out of the back of the chapel.

Sheets of warm summer rain fell from an uncaring sky and ran in
rivulets through the gutter at Charlotte's feet. She sat on the curb
with her shoulders hunched over and her head hung low, streams of rain
dripping from her long, tangled hair. If the sky was crying, it had
reasons of it's own, for today, Charlotte wept alone.
"Do you want to borrow my umbrella?" asked the voice of a little
girl.
"No. Thank you, anyway," replied Charlotte, without looking up.
"But you're getting all wet; you'll get sick!"
"I don't care," said Charlotte. "Maybe I'll even die out here."
"Don't do that!" exclaimed the little girl. "The world has too much to
offer!"
Charlotte looked up and raindrops slid down her face, mixing with her
tears. She saw before her a pretty girl who could hardly be more than
ten years old. She was twirling a wide pink umbrella that had bows and
ruffles all along the edges. She wore a dress that was also pink and
decorated with ruffles and bows. She was probably a member of the
wedding party; she might have even been the flower girl.
"You're probably too young to understand," Charlotte began, "but if
life has had anything to offer, it's been keeping it to itself."
"Well, if the world doesn't have anything to offer you," the girl
persisted, "then it must be you that has something to offer the
world!"
It seemed strange to Charlotte to hear such a big thought coming from
such a small child, and it took her a moment to wrap her mind around
the idea.
"I don't have anything to offer," said Charlotte mournfully, "I can't
even make mashed potatoes right!"
"Isn't there something you'd like to do? When I grow up," she said with
a light in her eye, "I want to work with children, to teach them and
help them to grow!"
Charlotte's eyes popped open widely, "Me too!" she nearly shouted.
"I've dreamed about the same thing all my life! I've just never thought
I was smart enough to do something like that!"
"If that is what you have dreamed of doing, then you shouldn't let
anything stand in your way! Just get up and do it!" she declared,
extending her hand. "My mom says that every race is begun with the
first step. What do you have to do to get started?"
"First of all," she said, taking the little girl's hand, "I'm going to
have to get up from here and stop feeling sorry for myself. Then I'm
going to have to go inside and dry off before I catch my death of
cold!"
Charlotte stood and went inside, holding the little girl's hand and
taking shelter under her umbrella.

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The red light on top of the TV camera winks on and the well-groomed
interviewer welcomes the television audience back from their commercial
break. She then turns her attention back to her guest.
"This has been a fascinating story that you have been telling us, Mrs.
Hillerman. How long has it been since the incident at the
wedding?
"It's been fifteen years," Charlotte answers with a smile. "Fifteen
wonderful years!"
The interviewer smiles back at her, saying, "It's amazing that you have
accomplished so much in such a comparatively short time."
"It hasn't been easy," says Charlotte. "It's been an uphill battle most
of the time, but it has had its rewards!"
"Tell us about what you did following the wedding."
Charlotte pauses for a moment to reflect, then she proceeds: "That
afternoon, I phoned my parents and made arrangements to move back in
with them. With their help, I went back to school and earned my high
school equivalency diploma. After that, I enrolled in a Child
Development program at a nearby community college. In less than four
years, I opened my first Tiny Treasures Childcare Center in my parents'
home.
"How wonderful!" exclaims the reporter, smiling into the camera. "And a
year later, she met Robert Hillerman, the man who is now her loving
husband! They got married eight months later and, with his help and
support, Charlotte Hillerman has gone on to pursue her dream and open
nine other Tiny Treasures Childcare Centers! That makes hers the
largest chain of childcare centers in this region!"
The reporter turns her gaze from the camera to Charlotte and says,
"Charlotte, for your outstanding achievement and for your tireless work
in the community, and on behalf of Channel Seven News, I am honored to
present to you the A. J. Baldwin Award of Excellence." As she says
this, she gives Charlotte a beautifully engraved plaque. To the camera
and to the studio audience, she says, "Let's give Mrs. Hillerman a big
round of applause!"
"There's one more thing that we all want to know, Charlotte. Who was
that little girl who played such a big part in that pivotal point in
your life?"
Charlotte smiles because she's been expecting this question. "You know,
that's the most mysterious thing of all. I've never been able to find
out who she is; sometimes I even wonder if she really exists at
all!
"I went to the bathroom to dry off that day, and when I came back out,
she was gone. I figured her parents had probably come and taken her
home. I called my friend, the bride, after her honeymoon and described
the girl to her and she says that she wasn't in the wedding party and
that she doesn't fit the description of anyone in either her family or
her husband's family. I guess I may never know who she is."
Looking directly into the camera, Charlotte says, "If you're out there
little girl, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your
simple words of encouragement changed the way I look at myself. You
showed me that I already possess the keys to happiness and success, I
just have to have the courage to look inside myself to find
them!"
The red light on top of the TV camera winks off and the lights in the
studio go dim.