Chapter 15 - THE SUITCASES STAY
Lucy hated zippers.
That was the first obvious symptom.
A jacket zipped too high:
Panic.
A toy storage bag:
Panic.
Suitcase in a hallway:
Panic.
Then hiding games.
She refused blankets over her head.
Would not crawl into a play tunnel at preschool.
Would not enter a cardboard box even when other children pretended it was a spaceship.
Therapy did not begin with the suitcase.
It began with control.
Open.
Closed.
Stop.
Go.
Her therapist let Lucy decide when a small fabric bag could be in the room.
Then when a suitcase could sit open.
Then when clothes could go inside.
No child inside.
Never.
At home I almost interfered constantly.
“Want Daddy?”
“Want me to remove it?”
“Want to go home?”
Her therapist finally told me:
“If you react as though every discomfort means danger, she will learn that discomfort means danger.”
Elena’s sentry tower.
There it was.
So I learned to wait.
Not like the night Celeste hurt her.
Different waiting.
Present.
Available.
Not taking over.
Months later Lucy helped me pack for a business trip.
She placed socks in a suitcase.
Then shouted:
“People no.”
“Correct.”
“Only clothes.”
“And shoes.”
“Shoes people feet.”
Valid.
Then she zipped it herself.
Halfway.
Stopped.
I did not finish for her.
May you like
She did.
That was the victory.
