Goth Meets Innocence

Yesterday, in the hallway of a nearby high school where Hailey takes her weekly piano lesson, Hannah and I happened upon a high school guy and gal sitting on the floor. Both wore all black and both had dyed their hair an unnatural shade of ebony. Hers included a bright red streak on one side, topped that day with a cheap Christmas bow. She looked up at us through eyes blackened with make-up, then looked back down with apparent boredom.

Walking half a hallway ahead of me, Hannah neared the couple. I knew their appearance reflected a style, but five-year-old Hannah knew nothing about style. Hannah wore khaki pants; sky blue boots with fur at their tops; and a multi-colored-striped, fuzzy sweater. Nothing matched. At least the high school couple...matched. Monochromatically. Very Goth.

I wondered what Hannah would do. Would she turn around and come back to me? Would she walk around them? Would she be frightened? Personally, I thought they were scary-looking.

Hannah's line of travel slowly arched towards the couple until she reached the girl. For a second I thought Hannah was going to walk on the papers between the couple, but she stopped, waved her little hand, and said, "Hi. Whuh-yame?" (Hi. What's your name?)

The girl looked up at Hannah (yes, up...hard to believe) with a pretty smile and said, "What's my name? It's Dawn." Surprise number one: Dawn understood Hannah.

The guy acted as if Hannah didn't exist, but--oblivious to being ignored--Hannah asked him, "Whuh-yame?" He continued to ignore Hannah, but Dawn answered, "His name is James." Surprise number two: Dawn seemed to care.

"Oh," Hannah replied and continued to stand there, expecting they would follow her personal rules of etiquette and ask her the same question. Dawn didn't let her down. Surprise number three.

"What your name?"

Hannah eagerly answered, "My-ame Han-nah." Then she pointed at me and said, "Hewh-yame My Mom." (My name is Hannah. Her name is My Mom.)

When Dawn laughed, looked at me and said, "Hi My Mom," I caught myself feeling judgmentally shocked. Interesting. I assumed the clothes, makeup and hair were chosen, at least on some level, for their shock value. Instead, the smile and sense of humor shocked me more.

Hannah hasn't lived long enough to judge people by their appearances. I marveled in her fearless innocence and wondered...When did I lose my own?