Friday, February 01, 2013

No Angry Words To Say

And I forgave.

Now that's off my heart.

Fiona started at a new school Monday. The school she's going to attend next year.

Things became intolerable. There was an email exchange that went from bad to worse. Jake got involved, which I was glad of but which brought things quickly to the inevitable conclusion.

We had to leave.

And so we did.

Radio silence ensued. No one called to ask why. No one emailed. I wasn't surprised, frankly, because I was ALL TOO CLEAR about our reasons. Call me many things, but one thing I'm not is inscrutable.

So I pulled her Thursday morning and walked out of the school, sat down in my car, and took a deep breath. No one but the secretary and one teacher knew what I'd done. All those happy people taking their happy children into our lovely school. There was too much history for me to be happy anymore.

But I'm finally getting over the sad part of yesterday...

Thursday and Friday she was home with me. She told me: "Leaving school isn't the hard part. Starting something new is the hard part." She was nervous over the weekend, the busy weekend in the cemetery and around town and cleaning house. Monday came and she was fine.

She was happy. And thus, I was happy.

I had to go back to the other school--Daisy and Billy still go there because things are always a little more complicated than you think they will be. Maybe a little bit inscrutable. But I dropped off and picked up and talked to the folks I still liked so much--Daisy's teachers, Fiona's former teachers. Today I needed to pick up Daisy's report card in person. It made most sense to do it in the morning. I shared genuine smiles with the secretary, whom I've always gotten along with, and the teachers I ran into in the building. Ok, maybe bewildering is a better term than inscrutable.


On the way out I saw the administrator standing there, greeting kids as they came into the building like every morning. But unlike every morning lately, he was alone. He was the only true casualty in this whole long journey, all the carnage, all the tears, along the road to getting here. I still like the teachers. I never liked the other admins.

Our eyes meet. "Hi Bridgett," he says quietly, like he's said every morning we've run across each other since November, a greeting that I have nodded at and walked past every morning we've run across each other since November.

"Hey," I decide to say.

"How's Fiona?"

I stop, turning on the heel of my winter boot, my hands shoved down into the pockets of my army surplus jacket. I look right at him.

"You know, she's really happy," I say, letting myself smile just a bit.

"I'm glad. I've been thinking about her a lot." I decide to believe him.

"Thanks," I say with a nod, pivoting back around and heading out to the car. I decide to forgive him.

I send him an email instead of a text message. He writes me back. That's probably it. And that's probably plenty.

I learned a little bit about forgiveness, a little about sin
A little about the soul of the man living inside this skin.
Finally getting over the sad part of yesterday,
No angry words to say.

1 comment:

waxwing said...

Wow, I have been following this on FB, and don't know the whole story, but it has to be hard -- the whole thing -- for you. Good for you being such an advocate in your children's lives. Some would be too afraid to rock the boat.