Well-Being Makes an Appearance
Closer still, a new dawn rises. Caught off guard, a relieved sob escapes. Four cruel, grueling years, we’ve held our breath, walking on eggshells, ruminating on what went wrong. The metamorphosis of others soaked down to our daughter’s seeking soul. Layers of rage, self-hatred, deception melt, puddled like rocky road on blazing blacktop. Cautiously optimistic joy climbs to the surface of my mind. Could we get our prodigal back? Safe in our embrace, embracing her destiny? Good omens abound like the hint of lip gloss, the smile at old photos, The melting façade of manufactured indignation and subjective truth Our sweet baby girl, laughing, back in our arms, uplifting, not crushing our spirits. Hint of compassion, contrition, connection loft through the air like spring lilac dew. We toss our pills with hopeful hands, gallop into the garden and touch supple grass, escaping the mindless prisons of Netflix and grazing to faze the pain. With broad, confident strides, we step out into the blazing sunshine of a life restored… thank you, Lord.
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I can’t imagine the joy of getting a child back from this nightmare.
Manufactured indignation; and also searing rage. May all the prodigals someday escape from the bonds of evil and untruth.