I know this boy whose dad just died of a heart attack.
I think, "Is he safe?"
I surprise myself with how often this is the question in my mind.
I read this book on becoming happier.
It asks you to list the things that will make you happier.
I list "Feeling safe."
I ask myself, "Are you in danger?"
Yes, yes of course. I'm always in danger.
I talk to my mother about my father.
She says, "You don't understand."
I say, "I do, I do."
I do understand. My biological father wanted nothing to do with me. My adopted father tried for a time and then as if on a breeze, floated away. The rest and love faded too, aided by my own walk in the other direction.
So there I was.
Safe? There was always food, if that's the question.
I worry about the boy and being happier.