I remember the feeling of waiting for those words. Each time. Waiting for the space for those words. The I Love You. That final feeling of safety with someone you care for. I remember waiting for it. The sealing up of any unsurety between the two of you. And saying that it was okay to stay. Okay to build. To rest, or repair. Either way, to move forward together.
I guess I was never quite sure exactly what you were saying to me in those five minutes I was allowed. Or what I was actually being accused of. Most importantly, why you never came to me with it. Why you went behind my back instead of asking anything honestly. Why that was okay. Why you viewed me so far beneath you and talked to me like I was trash. Why you felt you had that right. Why you weren’t willing to answer my questions. All of my Why‘s. All of my How Could You‘s. Why I no longer mattered. Why you were responsible for nothing. But I do know I kept my promise to you. Because I had to. It was a promise I made for some peace. But I kept it. No questions asked.
I went to drop my youngest off at gymnastics camp this morning. And her name was nowhere on the list. I can’t know who else was missing, but in 40 names, hers was not there. The kids already present were screaming, bouncing off the walls in a small enclosed area, and climbing windowsills, while a few male high school aged counselors stood by and advised them against their antics while everyone else found their place. Continue reading “A Day in the Life, and Not on the List”