Telling old stories about Poss makes my heart hurt. I try not to dwell, or spend my time looking back. There’s too much there that I think I’d just like to pretend never happened. My brain is good like that, it always wants to put a nice shiny gloss on the things that hurt. They look better that way and can’t hurt from behind their plastic covers.
But every now and then, for the benefit of everyone, we have no choice.
Camp is approaching and today was the debrief with the school. What should they know that they don’t already. And to be fair, there wasn’t much – we’ve been pretty open with them from day one.
But absconding isn’t something we’ve really gone into with them. There’s been no need; it’s been years since she last ran away from school. Not so long from home, but at school she seems to have learned the fear that her disappearing strikes in others.
If they’re taking her to camp though, there’s two nights and three days on a farm. A farm that’s a long way from anywhere. With lots of places to hide; lots of places to squirrel away.
When she does disappear, she really doesn’t think about others. It’s not that she’s selfish, or being deliberately naughty; it’s more that she’s single minded in achieving whatever goal it is that she has in mind.
Even if that’s chasing a car down the middle of a busy road at 4am. Or looking at that puppy back there, the one in the busy market. Or seeing where that lane way goes.
And off she goes. Like a light switching off, she just disappears.
There are lots of things that I worry about when it comes to camp, but getting a call to say they can’t find her has to be up the top of the list.
So we talked about it and I held my breath. I waited for them to tell me she would have to stay behind. That they couldn’t take that kind of risk.
Instead they took notes. And we moved on.
Seems she’s going to camp.