A few days ago, I ended a phone call with my son’s father.
We don’t talk very much anymore.
We try are best, to work together for Nate.
But, we have different views of Nate’s residential home and why Nate has been combative lately.
And within a few minutes of our conversation, it became heated where I was yelling and he was yelling. He was over talking me and I was over talking him. I was angry and He was angry. He wasn’t hearing me and I wasn’t hearing him. No one was hearing each other.
And when the heat dissolved there was quietness on the phone.
Then my voice trembled, with tears slowly streaming down my face, as my heart softly spoke into the phone.
“I wish things could be different.”
I wish that Nate could have stayed home with me.
Perhaps quit my job.
I wish that I could do something else that would allow me to provide for us financially. So he could stay at home.
Perhaps becoming a successful author and writer….what I have always dreamed about. Of course one that made money.
“All so Nate could be with me.”
I wish that things could be different.