Mrs. Miranda

The window over the back field was my favorite part of my grandfather’s house.  I could see the entire neighborhood, but more importantly, the field.  I longed to see the animals crossing the field and I knew all the prime times my favorite animals would be there. The fox and her family had quickly become my favorite and I relished the time I spent with them. 

The night I overheard my father talking about selling the house, I began to scheme.  I began to plan.  There was no way I could survive a move from this house.  No way I could move from the animals, especially the family of foxes.  They were my friends and the only ones I understood.  I knew the teachers called me a loner and I knew each teacher already had that preconceived notion on the first day of class. 

I was never understood until the day I turned ten and walked into Mrs. Miranda’s class.  From the moment I entered her classroom, I finally felt I was truly seen for the first time.  The first time I walked in, she sized me up and seemed to immediately know what I needed.  She gave me the encouragement, guidance and support I desperately needed. 

Now my father was trying to take me away from the only person who cared.  Cared about the animals and cared about me.  I knew if we left, I would never recover. No way could I allow him to be successful. 


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