She’s angry, this girl of mine. She’s really truly mad, red-faced and screaming, and I get it. I get it because I’ve been in that place myself, and I know what it is to feel the blood rushing into your face and the anger flooding your body and to feel absolutely helpless to stop it.
The anger, it’s like red-hot volcanic lava and it pulses in every vein and artery in my body and although it’s the feeling of powerless that brings it on in the form of frustration, giving vent to it makes me feel even more powerless. As I imagine she must feel.
And so I have to make myself stop, so I don’t answer anger with anger. I stop, and I pray a desperate, silent prayer, and I open my arms to her. And while she doesn’t run into them headlong, she does shuffle over and allow me to pick her up and put her on my lap. And then we cry together.
(Friends, I didn’t mean to write about this on Five Minute Friday because I’m preparing a very long post about this subject to be posted in the next week or so. But the prompt moves you how it moves you, and this is where I went.)
I’m joining up with some of the best writers on the web, and definitely the warmest, most accepting group of wordsmiths, for a little thing we call Five Minute Friday. We get a one word prompt from our fearless leader, Lisa-Jo Baker, then we write boldly for five minutes – no over editing, no backtracking. Want to play? Join us at http://www.lisajobaker.com