a true story about daily transitions
The Goodbye She Could Hold Onto
Coat half on, my hand on the door, and her fist closed around my sleeve like she'd never open it again.
the realization
The more I hurried, the tighter she held. So I quit selling her on how fun it would be and just told her the true thing: I know you don't want me to go, and I always come back. Leaving didn't have to feel like sneaking away.
We were late, so of course this was the morning she wouldn't let go. Coat half on, my hand already on the doorknob, and she had a fistful of my sleeve. I did the bright voice. 'Look how fun it's going to be!' I pointed at the toys, the sitter, anything. And I kind of leaned toward the door while I said it, hoping I could talk my way out.
have you ever felt this way too?
It didn't work. The faster I moved, the harder she gripped. Every time I edged away her whole body followed mine, and the crying climbed. I could feel the clock and the sitter watching and that pull to just peel her off and slip out quick while she was distracted. Part of me really wanted to.
So I stopped. I set the bag down on the floor and got low, down to her eyes. 'You don't want me to go. That's okay.' I pulled the scarf off my own neck and folded it into her hands. 'This stays with you. I always come back.' She still cried. I didn't fix that. I just let it be true.
Then I kissed her forehead while her eyes were still wet and I left. I didn't wait for the smile that wasn't coming. Through the window I saw her reach for the scarf first, then give the sitter her other hand. Still watery. Still watching me go.
what I found myself saying
"I stopped selling it and just got low: 'You don't want me to go. That's okay.'"
"I put my scarf in her hands: 'This stays with you. I always come back.'"
"I kissed her forehead and left while she was still crying, no fake smile to wait for."
