Chapter 14 - Lily Did Not Need Me to Hate Carla Forever
Lily’s leg healed.
Slowly.
Six weeks in a cast.
Then a boot.
Physical therapy because she became hesitant to load the leg normally even after the bone looked good.
The pediatric orthopedist expected:
full recovery.
He was right.
By spring, Lily ran again.
At first:
carefully.
Then like a child.
She returned to:
soccer
the following year.
Emotionally, healing was slower.
For months she asked:
“Is Aunt Carla coming?”
Before:
birthdays,
Thanksgiving,
school events.
I always answered:
“No.”
Eventually she stopped asking from:
fear.
Then one day she asked from:
curiosity.
“Does she hate me?”
My heart broke.
“No.”
“Then why did she hit me?”
Because she is cruel?
Too simple.
Because you talked back?
Never.
Because adults sometimes make unsafe choices when angry?
Closer.
I answered:
“She believed being angry gave her the right to hurt you.”
“It didn’t.”
“No.”
“Not ever.”
Lily thought.
“Did she think she was my mom?”
That question stunned me.
“Sometimes I think she forgot she wasn’t.”
Lily nodded.
Then:
“You forgot too.”
Children.
No diplomacy.
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Sometimes I did.”
She looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because she helped me so much that I stopped being clear about what she was allowed to decide.”
“Are you mad at yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Still?”
“Sometimes.”
Lily frowned.
“That’s dumb.”
I almost laughed.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t let her watch me now.”
That was her logic.
Current action mattered more than endless punishment.
May you like
I needed that lesson.
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