What will be the reply?

A broken family, what does that mean?  Maybe it would be easier to describe a not broken one.

 

I have another sister that requested me as a “friend” on Facebook, can that really happen?

 

We are broken sisters, our relationship is severed there is nothing there right now.

 

We are two islands with an ocean of disagreement between us, can a bridge really be made over the sea and what would it be made of, pretend?

 

What would a bridge of pretend be like?  Wouldn’t we both have to pretend to be someone other than who we are to get along?  I am way not interested in a game of ‘pretend sisters’.

 

We are two girls whose life began in the same home, we each experienced similar, but not the same ride, as we grew up and then left. 

 

We shared parents, but we no longer share the response to life, we do not act the same given the exact set of circumstances.

 

What would we have in common except our histories?  Our present and our most recent past is totally the opposite.

 

When truth knocked on your door, you slammed it shut, and continued to treat this man as a father, only. 

 

I on the other hand welcomed it in with shaky legs and a broken heart, I crumbled under the weight of it all, I opened the door. 

 

I brought truth into my home and I looked at it and its damage, I did not shut it out, I did not turn my back, I did not close my ears, eyes and heart to what this truth had to say.

I opened the door.

 

When I opened that door what I didn’t know that I was walking out of our family.

 

And now you are beckoning me back?  Really?

You want me and the truth to come back in your world, when the first time around you could not hear my words, you really are asking me to come back in?

 

I am not that naïve.

 

I did not open this door you did, are you coming out with me, or are you asking me to come back minus the truth?

 

You all claim you seen what I seen, that you understand who your father is, but what you fail to see is how your actions do not reflect that, your actions are that of a loving daughter, not a victim of his abuse.

 

As you sit inside the family with your hand on the door, are you ready to come out, or are you happy to shut the door one more time so not to hear me speak?

 

I stand as a little girl again, one who is outside the family, one who walks with courage to face the darkest truth, but one who longs to be part of a family again.

 

As you open that door requesting me to be your friend, who do you want?

 

You may not know this of me, but I can’t even begin to pretend to pretend to pretend that I didn’t see the truth.

 

When you ask to be my friend, you are asking for the truth, can you accept that?  Is that what you want?

 

You opened the door, what is it you want?

Are you coming out? 

 

For I will never walk back in to the home of abuse, neglect and pretend it is called love.

 

A little girl waits. 

 

What will be the reply?