The warning text. A phone call will be coming. A reply text asking for more information. More information given, but still confused.
The phone call. Your heart sinks. You listen. Take notes. Consider all sides.
You drive home. You consider all sides again. Momma bear takes over and you start to drive a little faster.
You walk in. Grab the parties needed and sit together. You exhale unsure if you have exhaled since the phone call. You consider your words. You choose them wisely. You watch him struggle to give answers. He searches his head for the ‘right’ answer and you reassure him that honest answers are really all that are needed.
The honest answers come. Your heart breaks a little bit hearing the bits and pieces and process them while being compassionate and understanding yet stern and serious. You watch him struggle some more and see the baby picture of him over his right shoulder and your heart breaks just a wee bit more.
You watch him pace. You watch him look for the right words yet again. You reassure him… again. It will all be ok, but deep inside you are not sure just what level of ok things will be.
He sits. He looks at you. You get up, give him a hug, reassure him one more time. Then go up to your room. Look in the mirror and say a quiet prayer. You hand it over to God because that truly is all you can do at this moment in time. And you tell your reflection, it will be ok. And she looks back uncertain.