Sometimes I want to hide under the covers. Keep the universe at a safe distance, tucked away in my world of white. I want to hide away from the world I so desperately seek to explore.
It was dusk and I sat on the bench with a 4th grader named Maya. She told me she feels confused and she started crying. She didn't feel safe at her Mom's house and her mom would cry when she said she wanted to go back to her Dad's house. She sleeps on the floor with a blanket. She loses her belongings in the shuffle between her parents' homes, feeling guilty and insecure that she isn't responsible enough. She told me she can't tell anyone her "things" but me. She held my hand the rest of the afternoon, listening to my stories of 'guilt' and 'confusion' about my own parents' fighting. Mom threatens to call the police on Dad (and did once) and Maya is afraid her Dad will lose custody of her. I promised her that no one would take her from her Dad without her consent. I hate that I can't be there to hold her hand the rest of the weekend at her Mom's house. She has nightmares there. She told me about the nightmares one day and we sat huddled on the floor while she cried--this was when I first realized I was where I needed to be.
She loves her father and trusts in him. I read about men like this--I watch them in movies. The man who will grab your hand when you threaten to leave, seeing behind your strong facade--the man who will love you. Really love you.
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