Crayons for sale

Again, the events portrayed in this entry took place in, and were written about, in Listowel, Kerry, Ireland, in early 2006. I was unemployed in a new country and freaking a bit at the time. (note: that is only a partial alibi for the last sentence below.)

Susannah [@ 5.65 y.o. at the time] has started this thing where she puts a bunch of her crayons in a clear stiff-plastic bag with a pink fur fringe, and walks around the empty Not Us neighborhood crying out “Crayons for sale! Ten cents!” She comes to me to ask permission, I grant it, and off she goes into the grey.
This triggers a multiple emotional experience.
• A wave of pride and admiration that she thinks this up and executes it rather than complaining to me that she has no one to play with.
• A wave of anger that she has no one to play with.
• A wave of self-recrimination that I’ve taken her from a near-ideal (so it was to me) neighborhood in Montpelier Vermont USA packed with her peers, and put her here.
The visceral feeling these all lump into is a bit of nausea and a pain in my heart. I cry a little.