The Magic Cloth
We went on a three hour picnic. She reminded her foster Mom for weeks ahead of time that we had a three hour picnic scheduled. She usually comes to see me for one hour, but this time it would be three.
I bought a new cooler, all her favorite foods, packed my camera, and games for after dinner.
She so was excited, so was I. We had never been together outside of the therapy room.
We had our table set, food laid out, drinks, when a family arrived and sat down at the picnic table next to us.
I knew it was coming, it always did. “A cloth, you should have brought a cloth,” she said as the Mom spread out a clean white table cloth.
I tried to defend my lack of planning by pointing out how the wind kept blowing up the edges and they had to use rocks to keep it down. But no matter what I said I could not pull her or all the other children I work with that live in foster homes away from trying to figure out why they are not at the picnic table with the white cloth.
I wish it could be that simple. Bu is it really so different then what I as a therapist, researcher, writer does? Aren’t we all looking for the magic cloth?
By: Karen Wallace