I love this jacket. It so suits the girly-girl who is wearing it. But I didn’t buy it for her. It came with several other absolutely lovely dresses as part of a birthday present. It was sent to her by a woman who doesn’t like me. It was sent to her by her grandmother on her father’s side.
It’s possible to count on both hands the number of times we’ve had any interaction since all this started 3 years ago. It’s also possible to count on both hands the number of times those interactions have gone badly, most often due to outside circumstances it seems to me. But to her…well, she seems to blame me.
I have twice been shocked by phone calls that have seemed extraordinarily hostile to me. She has no recollection of the first one. I expect she’ll never forget the second one.
When I looked at my daughter wearing this jacket over the weekend, the best thing I can say is that I am still processing all the feelings from the last time we talked. I am trying to operate on good faith that things can look very different in a year. I don’t know if this will, but it can. And it might be something that will matter to my youngest daughter one day.
I can tell you that the phone call was full of accusations and a blinding hostility. It was full of emotional response and betrayal. No investigation of the facts. Just emotional reactions and snap decisions. And victimization. What it wasn’t full of were any questions about why I suddenly felt that adoption was what was in her best interest. That was the simple question that was never asked.
It’s a beautiful jacket.