I’ll try to wait for you (two), keep my heart patient, that is. It’s hard for me to watch, but I expect it’s infinitely harder for you and the owl to endure. I’d be glad to give advice if you want it, but I’ll try to be a voice of encouragement instead now, or just a listening presence. I feel you know my thoughts on the situation, and you don’t need more of the same from me. Maybe now is not the time you need anybody else telling you what to do. I’ll (try to) put my drive to direct down. And I’m sorry for not simply being supportive instead of thinking I know what’s best. It’s you who probably has to sift through thick drifts of worry about where you’ll get money, how you’ll get your owl to school, what shape your family relationships will take, and how you will fill up your own soul between it all. It’s you who’s brave for your daughter and the hippos by even walking up the stairs. It’s you who are under the blanket of stress, under the stomping feet and slamming doors. It’s you who has endured both ups and devastating downs with your mom. I wonder because I don’t know, because I’m not there, because I’m not you, and it doesn’t make sense to me.īut it’s you who are caring for your owl every day. I wonder if you’re staying to see if she’ll change, to see if you or she can put back together what’s been broken. Your bedtimes and heart rates and activity have shown strange things, and we’re not as connected as we once were. I wonder if you’re talking to somebody else and wanting to see where it goes. Maybe the house is too small, the school district too different, the anxiety about the past too traumatic for your trust. I wonder if you want to get out, but don’t want to live together. “If you don’t… then I’ll tell…” And I know she has threatened you already. I wonder if she’s blackmailing you somehow. My mind has tried to wander those woods, and I end up making up reasons you don’t leave instead of accepting that I don’t know and may never really understand.
Logistics I have the luxury of overlooking because I’m not there and I’m not you. I’m baffled about why you don’t take that road.īut there’s probably a forest of background I don’t know.
Move in with me, drop me off and pick me up at work when you drop and pick up the owl until we get another vehicle. You accept the help or find help elsewhere, but you get out, and get out now. Or in other words, I think the abuse you endure is wrong, unequivocally uncalled for, so the path is obvious. This is how I choose to think often, or at least recently.
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