Work papers got tucked away. Pens were sat down. Coffee cups were lifted, and in a moment the business at hand had shifted from professional courtesies to a handful of women sitting round a table venting about their lives. Pretty soon everyone began to complain about their children, and I just sat there the odd man out.
I listened as they talked about having kids home from college who've turned into adults seemingly overnight and no longer adhere to high school-aged rules. I stiffened in my chair and tried to imagine what Cory's face would've looked like if she'd lived long enough and gotten well enough to go away to college.
Complain about Jake? No. There are no complaints here. I give into his every whim, and let him get away with everything short of setting fires.
As complaints were made about loss of sleep because of young ones in the house, I leaned back in my chair and remembered how Jacob woke up crying for his sister again this morning. Mornings are the hardest. I rubbed his back and sang him a little nonsense song about making brownies with Cory and seeing Oliver resting in the cat napper. After a few minutes, he calmed down and got up to face another day without his big sister.
One of women began describing that the perfect way to get rid of your grown children is to move into a tiny house with only one bathroom. My teeth ground against themselves helplessly at the words "get rid of your kids". I listened to some more of their genuine heartache and frustration, shuddering just a bit as my brain, so helpful, pulled up the image of Cory laying face down on the pavement. What would I have given to pick her up and carry her to my house for just one more night under my roof?
What would I have given to ride beside her in the ambulance and spend the rest of my life changing her diapers, if it came to that, just to see her dear face and feel the warmth of her hand in mine?
Everything.
I've come a little ways, guys. I realize that this venting and chatter was not meant to hurt anyone's feelings.
All the same, I walked away from the table feeling sick with anger, and hit the highway screaming at the top of my lungs to God or just no one... how is this fair?
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