Writing LettersMature

Thursday, September 16, 2011

Nothing happened. I kept myself busy with my schoolwork, but didn't really commit myself fully to it. Mom had a meeting with the elders and pastor of our church. Told them about Dad's drug use. I was embarrassed about this and upset because I had done SO well covering it all up. Then she had to go and tell them. But that is where healing begins.

One of our elders wanted us all to write letters to Dad. I sat with my paper and pen, alone, and wrote my thoughts, questions, and demands. Questions filled my mind, and I wrote them down, knowing I would probably never get an answer. In my letter though, I told him how angry I was that he was letting my darling indoor cat outside. I told him I was very unhappy with him about that. Tears smeared my vision as I sealed my letter, wondering if it would do any good. I gave my letter to Mom, hope in my eyes. 

I cried myself to sleep that night, stifling my sobs as I looked back on the last week. It had been a week since this all happened. I reminded myself of the meeting tomorrow, and hope sprung forth.

I went to sleep that night, hope the main subject in mind. That hope was shattered the next day.

The End

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