shadow child

She waited patiently for him to come home; nearly 2 weeks. 

Fell asleep at night clutching the phone waiting for him to call. 

And when he finally put away his tools and drove the long dark road home she broke in his arms.

Even as she slept holding on, her face buried against the richness of him, I couldn't help but to notice her hand balled up in a tiny, tight fist.

I think she is sinking.

Yet any of the clashes about BC working out of town is not centered around this child. 
Or even this household. The pressure for balance and the pull for his time is not about her. And it's certainty not about me. I often doubt it is even about the child it is about...
  
No one files court papers on her behalf. No one demanding attendance or attention for her. Because her mom believes love is, or it isn't. Because her mom believes that good love is deep, but that 'best' love is wild & free.    

This child skips on the edge of rules and dates that fall like rain down around her. Storms generated by people she doesn't even know. People who don't think to see her: what she is giving up, what she is sharing without complaint or consent.    

There is no prize for being capable. Only an umbrella that this child is smart enough to go and find for herself. 

I watch her make her way at the gym and I worry about the steadiness of the hands she is trusting with her heart.    

"I seem to have a shadow." BC says. Yes Dear, you do. A long shadow that is fading with the days. She will not be yours forever. Children, even good ones, grow up.

I just don't have the heart to tell her he is leaving tomorrow.