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“We know that, but we have the regrets just the same.”
“You’re a good person, Cindy. You shouldn’t carry that any longer. Your mom is happily remarried, and she wouldn’t want you to have regrets on her behalf.”
“No, she wouldn’t, and you’re right. I spent a lot of years in therapy figuring out how to put down the baggage from my childhood and move forward without it.”
“You’re doing a great job of that from what I’ve seen.”
“It takes daily effort. I’ve been thinking about maybe writing a memoir about my childhood.”
“Really?”
Nodding, she said, “I’ve kept journals my entire life and have everything that happened documented. I went to enormous lengths to hide the journals where he’d never find them. In one house, I kept them in an AC duct. I’ve always been a writer, and now that he’s locked up, I think I might want to do something with them.”
“That would be amazing, but only if you feel strong enough to revisit that time.”
“I revisit it every day in one way or another. I think I could handle it, but I’d need to talk to my family about whether they’d want me to do it.”
“I’m so impressed that you’re thinking of writing a book. I want to be the first to read it.”
“We can make that happen,” she said, seeming amused by his enthusiasm. “If I ever do it.”
“I think you will, and it’ll be incredible. You know what I would’ve regretted?”
“What’s that?”
“Not coming here and meeting you. This is the sweetest thing I’ve had in longer than I can remember, and it’s become very important to me.”
“Likewise.”
