Chapter 11 - MY DELAYI made my own mistake.
Tuesday night Lily said:
“My tummy has metal.”
I laughed.
I actually laughed.
She had been building a robot with magnetic tiles earlier that week.
I thought imagination.
“What do you mean?”
“Connor put metal.”
I was unpacking groceries.
Daniel was answering work email.
Patricia was putting leftovers away.
I said:
“Did you eat something you weren’t supposed to?”
Lily immediately said:
“No.”
Her face closed.
I should have stopped.
Sat down.
Asked open questions.
Instead Patricia said:
“She’s been doing this all evening.”
I heard exhaustion in her voice and accepted it as expertise.
I told Lily:
“Drink some water.”
My daughter had tried.
Not perfectly.
But she tried.
Later, when she first complained of stomach pain, that sentence should have returned.
It didn’t.
I had fragments.
I chose the explanation that required nothing urgent.
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That mistake did not make me responsible for Connor’s violence.
It did become part of what I had to forgive in myself.
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