I Almost Hurt Arthur—Until That Afternoon's Security Footage Told Me Otherwise.-14
A Shared Smile
Another afternoon. Arthur strained on his playmat, face scrunched, grunting fiercely as he tried to roll over. Marianne and I sat side-by-side on the sofa watching. I filmed him. "Push, sweetheart, harder!" Marianne encouraged, leaning forward. Arthur’s bottom suddenly jutted up—and with a hearty thump, he clumsily rolled onto his tummy! He lifted his head, bewildered by the upside-down view. Our voices collided: "He did it!" "Oh Arthur, clever boy!" Instinctively, our eyes met. A laugh bubbled from me—pure, relieved. Instantly, Marianne’s face lit up in a genuine, unguarded smile. We held each other’s gaze, laughing freely. On the rug, Arthur babbled happily, sharing the unexpected joy.
The Healing Path
The therapist set down her pen, smiling warmly. "Intrusive thought reports? Down to less than once a week. Sleep quality rating? Improved from 4 to 7." She met my eyes. "How do you feel?" I sank back, relaxed. "Like... rising from deep waters," I searched for the metaphor. "Gasping for air. Still swallowing water sometimes." I tapped my temple. "But I know its source now. How to navigate it." She nodded. "Your anxiety management is effective." Closing her notes: "Shall we shift to bi-weekly sessions? Focus more energy on living." I agreed instantly. "Yes." "One more thing," she added, rising. "Your support system... functioning well?"
Center of Support
Pushing open the front door, the aroma of dinner welcomed me. In the living room, Arthur sat in his highchair, gleefully banging his tray. Marianne placed a small bowl of mashed carrots before him. "Our champion returns?" she teased warmly. Toby peered from the kitchen, spatula in hand: "Well? Did you 'graduate'?" I dropped my bag, moving to the highchair. Arthur reached out, carrot-smeared fingers grasping. "Steady now, here comes Mommy," Marianne chuckled, handing me a wipe. I cleaned his sticky hands and face. He giggled, arms waving. Toby emerged with steaming plates: "Wash up! Beef stew tonight!" Marianne fastened Arthur's bib, softly humming that familiar, fragmented melody. I extended a finger. His tiny fist closed tightly around it.
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Another afternoon. Arthur strained on his playmat, face scrunched, grunting fiercely as he tried to roll over. Marianne and I sat side-by-side on the sofa watching. I filmed him. "Push, sweetheart, harder!" Marianne encouraged, leaning forward. Arthur’s bottom suddenly jutted up—and with a hearty thump, he clumsily rolled onto his tummy! He lifted his head, bewildered by the upside-down view. Our voices collided: "He did it!" "Oh Arthur, clever boy!" Instinctively, our eyes met. A laugh bubbled from me—pure, relieved. Instantly, Marianne’s face lit up in a genuine, unguarded smile. We held each other’s gaze, laughing freely. On the rug, Arthur babbled happily, sharing the unexpected joy.
The Healing Path
The therapist set down her pen, smiling warmly. "Intrusive thought reports? Down to less than once a week. Sleep quality rating? Improved from 4 to 7." She met my eyes. "How do you feel?" I sank back, relaxed. "Like... rising from deep waters," I searched for the metaphor. "Gasping for air. Still swallowing water sometimes." I tapped my temple. "But I know its source now. How to navigate it." She nodded. "Your anxiety management is effective." Closing her notes: "Shall we shift to bi-weekly sessions? Focus more energy on living." I agreed instantly. "Yes." "One more thing," she added, rising. "Your support system... functioning well?"
Center of Support
Pushing open the front door, the aroma of dinner welcomed me. In the living room, Arthur sat in his highchair, gleefully banging his tray. Marianne placed a small bowl of mashed carrots before him. "Our champion returns?" she teased warmly. Toby peered from the kitchen, spatula in hand: "Well? Did you 'graduate'?" I dropped my bag, moving to the highchair. Arthur reached out, carrot-smeared fingers grasping. "Steady now, here comes Mommy," Marianne chuckled, handing me a wipe. I cleaned his sticky hands and face. He giggled, arms waving. Toby emerged with steaming plates: "Wash up! Beef stew tonight!" Marianne fastened Arthur's bib, softly humming that familiar, fragmented melody. I extended a finger. His tiny fist closed tightly around it.
NEXT >>