Heavy

My purse, like my heart, seems to get heavier by the minute. The note has been in my purse for 48 hours now and I cannot bear to look at it. I cannot bear to read the justifications, fabrications and accusations I am almost certain it contains.

I feel the need to protect myself---experience has been a bitter teacher. The first note--which I was sure brought me word of her desire for reconciliation--was only a letter from Joe and full of nonsense. The second note read like a bad novel and was full of accusations and bore little resemblance to reality. And the third note/email was nothing more than a demand for items she had left behind when she ran away.

I am not brave or curious. I am emotionally fragile after all the "fireworks" of the Fourth. I am heartsore, weary, wounded and too numb to be hopeful.

On the Fourth, I touched my daughter for the first time in 2 1/2 years. She initiated the hug so at least there's that. I held her, I wept on her shoulder, I said something about missing her (or something...I can't even remember what it was that I said) She pulled away and only said goodbye before she walked off.

And my purse and my heart are both still heavy.