
5 months
It’s not every day that a mother and her daughter exchange words that change both their lives in ways that one can’t possibly fathom.
In five seconds, your entire existence crashes around you.
You choke.
You swear your last breath has escaped from your lungs.
You panic and frantically review all things elementarily parental.
Warned children about strangers? Check. Told children to always, always tell Mommy or Daddy if something ‘bad’ happens, no matter the circumstances, no matter threats made? Check. Kept communication lines open? Check. Warned children about possible inappropriate behaviors of other parents, step-parents, pseudo-parents, teachers, friend’s parents, uncles, aunts, grandparents, sunday school teachers, priests, strangers, adult acquantainces, the cable man, the trash man, doctors, nurses, neighbors and the ice cream man? Check.
Warn children about their best friends?
FAIL.
It’s difficult to explain the emotional rollercoaster you’re forced to ride on against your will when, in an instant, you’re smacked in the face with innocence lost.
I’m living an almost Nancy Grace nightmare.
And apparently it takes five months to get my head out of my ass long enough to explain why I retreated into nothingness.










