Counting by 7s

by Holly Goldberg Sloan

He didn’t have a going away party when he left Walla Walla, Washington, because no one cared that he was leaving.

The middle school years were supposed to be (according to the literature) about an emotional separation from parents. I figured lying was laying a good groundwork for that.

“It’s not much consolation, but you’ll probably never have any loss this big again.”

Life, I now realize, is just one big trek across a minefield and you never know which step is going to blow you up.

For someone grieving, moving forward is the challenge.

Because after extreme loss, you want to go back.

I spend most of my day with Pattie. She’s there for me. And just being there is ninety-nine percent of what matters when your world falls apart.

All reality, I decide, is a blender where hopes and dreams are mixed with fear and despair. Only in cartoons and fairy tales and greeting cards do endings have glitter.

When you care about other people, it takes the spotlight off your own drama.

I will go forward into the world and do my best to be the daughter that my parents would have wanted me to be. I’m not brave; it’s just that all other choices have been thrown out the window.