Chapter 19 - The Question
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Children have an uncanny ability to ask the most profound, difficult questions at the most inconvenient times.
I was rushing through the grocery store on a busy Tuesday evening, trying to wrangle a restless six-year-old Owen while mentally calculating the week's meal plan.
"Mommy," Owen asked suddenly, dropping a box of animal crackers into the cart. "Why doesn't my dad live with us?"
I stopped pushing the cart, the noise of the supermarket fading into the background. I had known this conversation was coming, but I hadn't expected it in aisle four, next to the oatmeal.
I took a deep breath, kneeling down so I was at eye level with him.
"Your dad made some choices a long time ago that made our home unsafe," I explained gently, using the age-appropriate language my therapist and I had discussed.
Owen frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Did he hit you?"
"No," I answered honestly. "But he made decisions before you were born that could have hurt both of us very badly. He tried to control everything, and he didn't tell the truth."
"Is he a bad man?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and complex.
"He did bad things, Owen," I said carefully. "People are more complicated than just one word. Sometimes people who do bad things can also do good things, but that doesn't mean they are safe to live with."
Owen processed this, staring at the brightly colored cereal boxes.
"Do you hate him?" he asked quietly.
"No," I said, realizing with profound relief that it was entirely true. The burning anger had long since burned itself out, leaving only ashes.
"Do you love him?"
"I remember loving him, a long time ago," I answered.
"Is that different?"
"Yes, buddy. It is very different."
Owen nodded slowly, accepting the answer with the simple, profound wisdom of a child. He grabbed another box of cereal and tossed it into the cart.
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"Okay," he said cheerfully. "Can we get the ones with the marshmallows?"
I smiled, standing up and pushing the cart forward. "Yes, we can."
