Jonathan just came out of his bedroom, crestfallen, and said shakily, "My friend list just dropped forty miles."
Spreading his left arm as high as he could reach and his right arm down to his knees, he said, very seriously and sadly, "This is as much as I can do of forty miles."
I asked, "How did your friend list drop forty miles, sweetheart?"
"By moving here," came the teary reply. "I had a lot of friends at the church house, you know. And all I have now is my family members, and two boys from my class."
Gathering Jonathan into my arms, I felt lost for words. He was right. His friend list did drop forty miles. So did James's. So did Daddy's. So did mine.
Stumbling for something that might bring comfort, I murmured, "I lost friends, too, sweetie."
I hesitated. Mmm... not tellin'.
Jonathan guessed, "Some of my teachers, right?"
I changed tacks. "Teacher Velma is still my friend."
"And Miss Julia is still my friend."
"Yeah, I know."
"It's hard to move to a new place and make new friends, isn't it?"
"Yeah. All I have are two boys from my class. And all my family members. And James only has his family members and two boys from his class."
I asked him some more questions about the two new friends in his class, and then I walked him back to bed, where I heard him say to James, "Mom and Dad lost friends, too!"
I suspect that's where the conversation originated. James feels it is his bounden duty to inform Jonathan about all the doom and gloom in the world. I can just imagine James pronouncing solemnly, "You can never see those people ever again," and closing forever an iron door on the only life my sons have ever known.
Well, okay. Maybe it's me who feels that way.
I am reeling with pain and confusion about how we came to be where we are.
I am angry at the people who spread lies about us that so many others believed.
I am watching my former friends' birthdays pass by on the calendar and knowing they don't want to hear from me.
I don't have answers. Only questions.
And every question hurts.