“I just want things to be normal.”
This is a popular phrase in our lives these days.
“I want them to be normal like they were before [she] found out.”
*sigh* “This is normal now sweetie. I snuggle next to her and hold her hand. “And things will change and change and each time that change will be a different normal. It will never be normal like it was.”
“You keep telling me that. I know it will never be like that!”
She doesn’t want me to reassure her. She doesn’t want me to make it better or turn back the clock. I believe that she wants nothing more than to express her feelings, and she might even want to know that she isn’t alone in missing the way it was – the normal that we all enjoyed for over a year.
She is not alone. I miss that normal too.
Our conversation continued about love and honesty. We talk together as we haven’t chatted for weeks due to schedules and vacations and guests. We talk about truths – the truths that are our family; the truths that aren’t black and white but are full of gray and texture and individuality. Someone recently told me that love is difficult for kids as they are very black and white. I see that in my child. I also see depth. I see an understanding and an acceptance of the gray that is love and life that is most likely based upon her own experiences as much as it is the home we share and her age. How often do I underestimate this child? How often do we assume that our children are going to view life as we expect or assume only to find that they are effected quite differently and with much greater depth?
We are silent, together, sharing the moments of this conversation. I anticipate returning to our morning walks and training for her 5K. I tell her that I have missed our walks, our talks, and sharing time with her.
“I am glad that we have an honest house.” She tells me as we begin our good-nights.