Waits at the window
Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
The Beatles, “Eleanor Rigby”
Two weeks ago, I emailed a friend. I wrote, “At this moment (and this could easily shift in the next moment), I seem to be settling in to acceptance of this…as it is. It feels less of a struggle…less of a longing for what comes next.” One-hundred moments later, I sat with Sloane trying to teach her to write her letters correctly. I could see she was getting more and more deflated as I emphasized which letters go from the first floor to the basement of the letter “house” and which are first and second floor letters. Yet, I persisted having her practice writing them until she had them correct. Practice makes perfect. Her brow drooped. Her head hung lower. Then she looked at me and said, “You’re mean!” And, I crumbled.
