A voice on the other end
asks to come down and talk.
I put my planning aside
and welcome her in.
With red-rimmed eyes, she tells me of
poor choices made and
the desire to be a different person.
Choices have caught up to her.
Those around her having difficulty
in believing her intent,
her honesty.
Only she knows
what is real.
I sit and listen
offering a word or two here and there.
“What kind of person do you want to be?”
“I don’t know,”
is all she can say wondering
what trouble will come her way.
She stands at a crossroad
pondering whether to continue the path she knows
or take the risk to become someone else,
to stand out among her peers.
The uncertainty of what she will face at home after
one more phone call,
one more reminder to her mother
of the man in jail that she called, “Daddy.”
Will it be counseling
and the risk to tell a stranger
Everything?
Will it be a group home
and separation from her friends and feel
Alone?
Out of her control,
whatever the consequence,
how she lives it is her choice alone.
Will she embrace the risk and
take the time to become
the person she wants to be?
Or will she continue
as the person so many think she is –
A bad ass who won’t make it?
Me?
I believe in her
strength to keep getting back up;
belief that she can be so much more;
ability to get beyond this.
As our conversation draws to a close
another name comes up and
my stomach drops
when I hear his name.
Another with so much potential
struggling up the mountain of life,
finding it difficult to take the right path.
I believe in him.
Tomorrow I will find the time to tell him.
Again.
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