The Extra Mile

Today I received a birthday card. A birthday card that has come a month late and many many many years after it should have but so much better late than never. A letter filled with regrets. Regrets that I needed to hear along with an acknowledgement of how painful that must have been for me. I cried like a little girl sitting on my bed. Feeling the sadness in his letter and his wish to see me. Too much disappointment from all those years of absence to have held any hope in receiving such a response. When someone has hurt me so deeply I feel a need to protect myself in trying not to care.  

His response is currently sitting with me, despite my immediate response in my willingness to travel to him. To literally travel across the water. 
His health and covid restrictions making that more difficult right now but in his willingness to give more I find myself happy to give it all. Needing very little from him beyond feeling a real care. A care that says I am worth more to him. A worth that I have been trying to feel in myself in me trying to be nice to me. I am worth more. I couldn’t have been a more loving daughter when I was younger. Showering him with so much love  despite the lack of it in return. All I needed was to feel like I mattered. Mattered enough for him to make the effort. Mattered enough for him to not just think of himself. To find me and meet me somewhere near the middle in trying to fix what he broke. His willingness to do that has immediately made me willing to go the extra miles required. Because I know how much that must have taken for him to share a vulnerable version. To say sorry! Three words that do mean something to me. A version that I can relate to in real feeling. And in that real feeling I can see something that is worth the effort in trying to fix. Something that is more real and meaningful for me and makes a difference to both of our lives. I’m not complicated at all really. I give out my love so very willingly. I just need to feel like it means something. 


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