“We can talk more when you’re ready,” my mom adds as she, too, heads out.
All I do is nod. Then I remember, Nat. “Oh mom,” I say before the door can close. She pokes her head back in. “Is it alright if Nat spends the night?”
A small, but genuine smile appears on her face and it makes her look years younger. “I think that’s a good idea. It will help you get back into the swing of things.”
It’s painfully obvious my mom doesn’t realize I don’t need to get back on that old swing. The way things were isn’t going to work for me, not if I want to continue moving forward. Even after explaining to them how their actions affected me, they still didn’t understand I needed my life to change.
Mom had said we would talk later, and, in her mind, it was probably going to be like catching up with one o
