Chapter 24 - The Last Time I Dreamed of Gravel
For years, I dreamed accident.
Not every night.
Sometimes months apart.
Trailer moving.
Eli small.
Phone won’t unlock.
Dad blocking.
Then in my seventies dreams stopped.
No ceremony.
One morning realized I hadn’t had in years.
I told Eli.
He said:
“I still get one sometimes.”
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
Then:
“Do you regret calling police?”
I laughed.
“No.”
“Do you regret going lake house?”
That harder.
“No.”
Why?
Because families should not need avoidance to be safe.
We had right to expect adults behave.
Then:
“Do you regret leaving me with Derek?”
Guilt flashed.
He saw.
“Mom.”
“I know.”
Then:
“You trusted my uncle.”
“Yes.”
“That’s normal.”
“Yes.”
Then:
“He broke trust.”
“Yes.”
Responsibility returned to correct place.
Then Sophie, now teenager, came in complaining:
“Dad won’t let me practice driving with trailer.”
We both burst out laughing.
She glared.
“What?”
Eli:
“Long story.”
I said:
“He is correct.”
She rolled eyes.
Ordinary adolescence.
No one told her horror details until older/asked.
Then adult Sophie later learned.
She said:
“Dad, that's why you’re weird about backing?”
“Partly.”
Then:
“Grandma called 911?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
No legend.
Then:
“Did Great-Grandpa really try delete camera?”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“Yes.”
History becomes family fact.
May you like
Not secret.
Not identity.
