Chapter 13 - I Did Not Become Nora’s Father Overnight
Everyone assumed:
I would take custody.
I almost did too.
Guilt is dangerous because it likes:
grand gestures.
My therapist asked:
“Do you want to raise Nora?”
I answered:
“She needs me.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Annoying profession.
I thought:
for weeks.
Then talked to:
Nora.
Age seven.
No promises.
I asked:
“If you could choose what feels safe, where would you live?”
She thought.
Then:
“Can I still go to my school?”
“Yes.”
“Can Barnaby visit?”
“We can try.”
“Can I see Grandma?”
“If it is safe and allowed.”
Then:
“Can I live with you?”
There.
I did not answer:
yes
because guilt demanded it.
I said:
“I want to talk with the grown-ups who help us make good decisions.”
She nodded.
We did:
home study,
schedule review,
school transportation plan,
childcare,
therapy coordination.
I reduced:
travel.
Not eliminated.
My company had other executives.
Amazing discovery.
I converted my guest room into:
Nora’s room.
Then learned she hated:
beige.
We painted it:
light green.
She moved in:
five months after the gala
under a formal guardianship order.
Not adoption.
Not replacing:
Laura.
I became:
her guardian
and:
uncle.
Both.
I had to learn:
lunch packing,
hair ties,
permission slips,
why seven-year-olds require seventeen conversations to:
go to bed.
I was terrible at:
some of it.
Nora survived.
So did:
May you like
I.
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