i started off writing, and thought, no, this is trouble,
still unsure of how much to edit here, how much to just say
(hoping one day, like my friend says, i’ll just trust the adults
to deal with their own emotions, and stop worrying)
but i also wanted to say that i am in one of those moods
where i don’t know
so i have these go-to memories (you know) and they give me something, at least –
warmth, safefty, a sense of home –
what else should I do with myself? ava sleeping elsewhere for the first time, well, ever
and me writing, close to her.
so i’ve been thinking about a family – one of two, or three maybe – that i used to love
watching and listening to
all so compassionate, so kind, and trusting
in each other’s innate goodness
no sense of conditions or currency. just what it was, what they were.
this is what i strive for, with A. as rare examples as they are, they’re there.
proof. what unconditional parenting actually looks like.
to accept myself wholly, so that she can accept herself too?
that’s the one i’m trying to learn, every day.
i didn’t understand this was even a possibility until, perhaps, two or three years ago.
but with A., i get it. she’s not me, she doesn’t even have to be like me, and that’s okay.