Chapter 7 - THE FIRST TIME MARGARET USED THE SWITCH
The switch came from the backyard.
A thin branch Margaret cut from a decorative shrub.
Claire saw it on the counter one afternoon.
“What is that?”
“A reminder.”
“For what?”
“Listening.”
Claire stared.
“No.”
Margaret laughed.
“I raised Daniel.”
“You are not raising my children.”
“I’m keeping them from becoming impossible.”
“They’re two.”
“Exactly when you start.”
Claire picked up the switch and threw it into the trash.
Margaret said nothing.
The next morning another one appeared.
Claire called Daniel.
“You need to tell your mother no hitting.”
He sighed.
“Claire, I’m in a meeting.”
“Then step out.”
“She’s not going to hurt them.”
“She brought a switch into my kitchen.”
“You’re catastrophizing.”
The word stayed with Claire.
The first switch Claire threw away had been thin enough to snap with two hands.
That almost made Daniel dismiss it.
“It’s a twig.”
Claire answered:
“It’s not the material.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s what she thinks it’s for.”
Daniel sighed.
Again Claire sounded dramatic to him.
He kept evaluating danger by the object.
Claire was evaluating the permission behind it.
A weak tool can still teach a powerful lesson:
Grandma may hurt you when you do not comply.
May you like
Not because it was cruel.
Because it gave Daniel permission to end the call.
