“Are you excited?” she asked.
This was the third day in a row that I had been blessed with my Kid’s company in over 14 months. Though each rendez-vous dwindled in duration–from one hair appointment (mine, not hers), to one Netflix Locke & Key episode, to this final goodbye of just a few short minutes–they were more precious to me than all moments before or since our living arrangement expired.
Sitting on the sectional across from me, her question was forced, but not contrived. There air around us was heavy and silent; paradoxical, but not uncomfortable–just as it had always been. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I wondered if that would ever change, or if we had simply grown so used to the discomfort that it had become our norm; with the shackles of pretense no longer causing us disquiet, our respective empathies had negotiated a peace of concerned indifference. Is this my teenager’s interpretation of paternal love and fidelity? Serendipity!
The question that so gently interrupted our warm blanket of silence was the exact catharsis that I needed to find closure on the Houston chapter of my life. I struggled to find an answer for the Kid but none was forthcoming. My silence was approaching the uncomfortable seconds so instead I just verbalized how I felt about finally seeing my daughter again.
“Yea, I’m excited, but mostly I’m nervous and scared. You want something for so long that when you finally get it, it’s like ‘Okay, now what?'”
I was surprised at just how apropos that response turned out to be.
One reply on “Hello, and Goodbye!”
Sometimes the best response we can give is an honest and raw one. Sounds to me like that’s what worked. I’m happy that you made that breakthrough with her.