She was three years my junior,

chronologically.

At 75, she at 72, the gap between us

would have been insignificant.

But at 13, the gap between me

and her 10 was insurmountable.

Yet, Sheryl,

little sister of a classmate,

showed up,

dragged or tagging along with Debbie, her older sister,

to MYF dances, beach parties, birthdays, baseball games,

4th of July parades on Main Street….

(In those days, older sisters took care

of younger siblings.

So, where Debbie was,

Sheryl was!)

And our gang was a tight cinched cleat,

all necessary burdens of all accepted by all.

So, I knew Sheryl

and, to my surprise,

She knew me.

But,

She knew me like a wise old soul.

She got me!

Yes, our crowd knew of

of my disintegrating family,

of my constant push for the best grades,

flag barer for the school, I was,

of my need to calm the waves,

to quiet the storms of my adolescent friends,

of the pressure inside me those “causes” caused,

(a messiah’s reward is a cross…)

But she knew me,

deeper….

Somehow.

And one night at a beach-barnfire-marshmellows-and-franks-party,

she marched into my turbulent life,

smiled up at me and said,

“Kenny, walk me home, please.”

And with that undeniable command,

she slipped inside me

and stilled the storm in my soul,

cooled the cauldron.

Simply.

By walking beside me, holding my elbow,

with me between her and the street curb

as her Mother taught her to do….

By “oohing” in awe at a sunset

or a bleached white scallop shell…

By splashing me back, with a child’s ferocity,

in a water fight, laughing all the time,

and then, simply turning and walking away

when she’d had enough…

By changing the cloudy gray atmosphere of my life

to bright joy.

Did she need me?

I’ll never know.

But I surely needed her!

How did she,

so young, so innocent,

yet so wise,

such a knowing in her!

Did she know what she was for me?

For that tempestuous summer,

Sheryl’s calm and peace enveloped me.

God placed an angels heart in a little girl

and she aimed herself at me.

She left me in September,

once school began again,

me on to High School,

She to, as she said, “Try on” 6th grade!

She, matter of factly, pointing me on

to who knew where.

I will never know How she knew.

but I will never forget

that she did.