This page intentionally left blank

I didn't know that I could hurt this bad.

I didn't know that people would care so much.

I didn't know that I could cry .... every. single. day.

I didn't know the inner workings of the juvenile justice system.

Two weeks ago...I feel like I didn't know anything.

Right now, I need this. I need an outlet for all the words I can't say and for all the feelings. My God, there are SO MANY FEELINGS. I live as a perpetual motion machine, moving from one to-do list to another, validating myself through check boxes, accomplishments and back-up plans to back-up plans to back-ups plans - all with the grand purpose of knowing what I am supposed to do at any given moment. And while moving my family, selling a house, changing my kids school and having my husband start a new job in a town 4 hours away in just 3 weeks adds a lot of tasks to a to-do list, I know that my life is actually focused on the blank page. The list I can't write. The list of things that I can do to help my daughter. The list of things I know about what is happening with my daughter. The list of ways I can be interceding on her behalf and trying to make things go just a little more smoothly for my precious girl. That page is blank.

Sometimes when looking at journals or technical reports you have a page after the cover that reads in large print "This Page Intentionally Left Blank". I always thought it was a waste of paper and for most reports I'm thinking of, it probably is. But in my case, I have an intentionally blank page that is waiting to be filled. But this page will not be filled with another task list. This page is too special to be relegated to check boxes and chores. No, this is a page to be filled with a story.

My life of to-do lists and check boxes was so binary. I'm a professional logistician and so it simply made sense for me to organize myself in a flow of thoughts, materials, actions and processes that moved me from a current point to a desired destination. Become a Ph.D. Check. Author paper on Lean Practices in Higher Education. Check. Cook 3 new vegetarian meals each week. Check. Meaningfully connect with my family and friends. Check. On and on it would go - a linear and logical approach (at least from my perspective) on how to move through life. When the unexpected arises - make a new list. When you need to change direction - draw a new map. When you need to learn a new skill - write down the process and execute accordingly.

But this...this is different. Like a broken glass, the fragments flew everywhere and you cannot possibly collect them all and glue them back together. It will never be the same again. I can never view life through the lens I used before. Permanently, irreparably, completely changed. There is no list or task or plan that can handle this.

My life schedule has to include teaching and parenting and cooking and doing laundry - but now it's all done week to week based on my next visit to the juvenile detention center. I go to the grocery and meal plan - but I don't buy two gallons of milk because she is the only one who drank it. I make mac and cheese because everyone likes it, but it was her favorite. Somehow it all just tastes so bland now. I'm desperate to talk about anything BUT this - yet THIS is the only thing I truly think about. Even the damn dog is confused. Charlie still walks to the door when she hears the bus coming morning and afternoon. She looks for Bunny to come down the stairs - hair wet, hoodie on, always rushed no matter how many alarms she set. And when the bus comes at the end of the day she watches all the other kids get off, waiting for her to burst through the door singing "Charlie" in a range only dolphins can hear.

I want to text her to tell her to look out the window and see the snow, because she would think it was beautiful. She hasn't seen the outside for over 2 weeks, except through the backseat window of the sheriff's cruiser. Nothing but plain cinder-block for her now. I feel guilty making baked oatmeal this morning, because she would love it and I don't know what her breakfast was today. It feels wrong to smile or laugh. And yet I am so tired of crying.

There is no list to make sense of it all. The story is being written and I have to simply wait and watch. And trust that the page won't stay blank forever.