Compost Studios

E-Grrrl is at a slumber party tonight, and the whole houses aches with the silence of her absence. While my son often quietly retreats into his books, Gameboy, or building projects, E-Grrrl is a word-bomb exploding on the home scene.

From the moment she steps off the school bus until we tuck the covers under her chin, she's chattering away. She narrates her day, tells me what she and her girlfriends played on the playground, the plot of the book she's reading, what she studied in school and how she did on her papers, who got into trouble, and what she did on the bus on the way home.

She grabs my hand when we're walking and dissects every facet of her existence, telling me what she's thinking about and why. At home, she interjects herself into every conversation and finishes my sentences for me. Sigh. I know I tell her to stop talking at least once a day because she fires so many words into my aging brain that my own thoughts run for cover.

But while I sometimes cringe as her words ricochet endlessly in my head, more often I love to be part of her endless conversations. She amazes me with her maturity and her insights, delights me with her finely tuned sense of humor, and makes me smile simply because she is so positive, so bubbly, so fun. Yes, sometimes she takes it all a bit too far but life with E-Grrrl is never dull--or quiet.

She is nine and this is her first night alone away from home. In the U.S., she occasionally spent the night with friends and family but always in the company of her big brother. Generally our policy is "no sleepovers" but this one was honoring one of her closest friend's birthdays at the start of a three-day weekend with just a few girls attending. I knew she'd be crushed if she couldn't go.

She carefully packed her bags and got ready, counting down the minutes until her dad would take her over.

I told her I was going to miss her--and I meant it. She confessed she was a little bit nervous about the whole thing.

I tell her if she changes her mind about it, she can call us anytime and we'll come get her. Period.

She says, "Even at 11 at night?"

"Anytime," I tell her, "No questions asked."

She hugs me hard, and I tell her I'm a little nervous too. It will be strange not having all my chicks in the nest tonight, but one thing for sure--we'll have LOTS to talk about tomorrow.

November 9, 2006