Hal might be an adult, but he’s still my child
And I don’t want my child to take care of me like that
Not anymore
Anne couldn’t imagine Brooke or Claire ever being anxious to take care of her, but Sadie’s texts still struck a familiar chord. For her daughters’ entire lives, Anne had modeled an existence characterized by restriction, sadness, anger, and self-denial. Now Brooke was an anxious perfectionist who never lived up to her own impossible standards, and Claire ran away from vulnerability almost every chance she got. That wasn’t a coincidence.
She’d made mistakes. She’d hurt her children. So had Sadie. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t walk a different path moving forward.
I understand.
The Sadie I want to be doesn’t put her grief before anything else
Or anyone else
As a wise woman said on Monday
I’m very, very proud of you
Well, I’ve got a lot to live up to, sunshine
If I’m going to be the bravest woman you know
You already are.
Speaking of self-challenges (she said, changing the subject):
I’m co-organizing Brooke’s party on Sunday.
Oh?
What’s the theme?
Which reminds me, I’ve been thinking I’ll theme my next shindig “potato”
Just potatoes
Potato everything
But we can talk about that later
No theme, actually.
We’re having deviled eggs, blueberry scones, and raspberry lemon spritzers.
I bought plates shaped like rocket ships.
None of it goes together, and absolutely none of it has anything to do with motherhood.
It’s surprisingly freeing. We’re having fun with it.
You’re
You’re having fun
You bought rocket ship plates
I’m talking to Anne Lowell, right?