So here I am again, a little shaky on my feet, somewhat bruised. The Mathematician and I wobble around bumping into things, holding each other up. Like very old people trying to cross an icy street.
When I was seventeen, to say that a girl was in trouble meant that she was pregnant. The Girlchild is in trouble, but she’s not pregnant, nor is she in immediate danger of her life. She is, simply put, in a very bad spot, and we have spent the last week getting the right kind of help for her. To be clear: she’s not addicted to drugs, she’s not in jail or in danger of going to jail. Things are too complex to be described in a single sentence, no matter how well turned.
It hasn’t been easy, but there is reason to hope that the path we chose will lead to a good place, with a lot of hard work and patience.
I’m going to turn comments off for this post. I’ve said as much as I can comfortably say, and your feedback, no matter how well meant, may bring speculation with it. That’s not fair to the Girlchild, and so I’ll forgo your good wishes.
Tomorrow I’l be posting something specifically about writing. Yes, really. A craft post. Haven’t done one of those in a while.
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