Husband and I journeyed home from rehab, from seeing our daughter in such a place. We travelled home in silence.
I put a meat and potato pie in the oven. Then went and sat on the floor next to Husband’s chair. I cried then cried some more. He hitched up in his seat, held his arm out to comfort me, I nestled there beside him. Bereft.
I was convinced my daughter would be damaged further by this rehab experience. I worried she was not safe amongst others like her. But what could I do? I played movies in my head of her drunk and desperate times. I knew she needed to stay. To take what came her way.
My mind was choked with thoughts of Laura, stacked in rows. When one scenario collapsed, another took its place.
I made friends with Sudoku. I worked on numbers not words, to try to clear my head.
For three months I went to visit Laura every Saturday. Husband could not always join us. He was busy with work. Every visit I took her goodies to cheer her, to cheer me. Laura was given a nice room, a big one of her own. I was pleased. How far I had come! That I would be pleased with a room for my daughter in a place such as this. Laura showed me her cupboard in the kitchen, her name stuck on the inside. Made me think of student accommodation and lifted my heart a little.
It was exhausting travelling to and fro.
One Saturday I arrived, Laura and I had a massive argument, I walked out, came home.