Safe

My first obligation is to my daughter. I have to continually come back to her. This little person is being pulled in two directions and I have to try my best to comfort her. On Tuesday, a friend,
child of divorce said, "It sounds like you are saying the right things."

I shrugged, because I do not know. I try, but you can never tell . . . especially when what you say is necessarily a reaction to what someone else has said, filtered through the emerging consciousness of a three-year-old.

My friend said, "What I needed to hear, what I didn't hear, was along the lines of what you're saying."

I couldn't remember what I'd told her, "What?" I asked, foggy, perplexed.

"You are loved. You are going to be okay. You are safe."

I nodded and the fog shifted. I know I say, I love you. The light filtered through. I know I say, I will always take care of you. I know I say, I am always with you, in your heart.

But there was something dense and difficult still sticking there. "The safe part is hard," I explained . . . "When I don't know . . . if she will be safe." How can I let her go? And to him?
"Or if I'll be safe myself."

My friend's face, so beautiful and sad in that moment, froze. She nodded.

I realize how challenging it is to say, to believe, to ensure that those we love, that we, are safe.