Chapter 16
Ellie stopped crawling on the floor.
Not literally forever.
Children crawl when they play.
But for weeks, whenever she dropped a toy, she would bend awkwardly instead of putting both knees down.
I noticed.
So did Nina.
We never forced the issue.
One afternoon, I found Ellie building something with wooden lawn pieces.
She dropped one beneath the bench.
Without thinking, she went onto both knees.
Then froze.
I stayed where I was.
She looked at me.
I smiled.
Nothing more.
Slowly, she reached under the bench.
Picked up the piece.
Sat back.
No Victor.
No belt.
No Lucas.
No laughter.
Just grass.
She continued playing.
I went inside before she saw me cry.
Later that evening, she asked me why Grandpa was not coming to dinner.
“Because he hurt you.”
“He said sorry?”
“No.”
“What if he does?”
I thought carefully.
“Then you can decide whether you want to hear it.”
Her eyes widened.
“I decide?”
“Yes.”
That seemed revolutionary to her.
It should not have been.
“Even when I’m little?”
“For who gets close to you?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
She thought about that.
Then asked:
“Can Nina come?”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
“Lucas?”
“Yes.”
“Marcus?”
I hesitated.
Ellie noticed.
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
She nodded.
That was enough.
Children do not need every relationship solved immediately.
Adults do.
We hate uncertainty.
May you like
Ellie was teaching me something simpler.
Safety could come before resolution.
