The Disappearing Maternal LoveChapter 1 Family Awakening
Dance lessons for my daughter Caitlyn were costing a fortune, and there I was, scrubbing dishes to cover the fees. Meanwhile, she skipped class to hang out with the local bad crowd.
She was prone to gaining weight and had a penchant for junk food. I urged her to watch her diet, and she shot back, accusing me of being abusive.
She made a splash in a national dance competition and was on the brink of breaking into showbiz, but then, in an interview, she blasted me as a controlling freak, claiming she needed to break free from her "psycho mom".
Later, after a fanatical fan stabbed me, sending me to the hospital, she coldly signed off on the DNR form.
Given a second life, I saw her fall from grace, transforming from a swan to a duckling.
She finally realized that I was right.
Too bad it was too late.
1
Surveying the mess in the living room, still clueless about what had happened, my phone buzzed with a text from Caitlyn's dance instructor.
[Mrs. Thompton, Caitlyn missed class again today. Is she under the weather?]
[Caitlyn's been off her game recently. She's zoning out during the basics and nearly got hurt. We've gotta keep an eye on the kid, right?]
[There's a promo right now. Pay up for the semester, and you get one thousand dollars off the fifty thousand fees.]
Reading those words, it dawned on me—I had a second chance at life!
The last time, when I received this message, my gut reaction was to send the money immediately. After all, saving one thousand dollars meant fewer dishes to wash, and that was a deal I couldn't pass up.
But after making the payment, when Caitlyn didn't pick up her phone, I tracked her down to a dingy internet café.
I burst in to find my vibrant young daughter snuggled up with a dyed-hair punk.
In a fury, I demanded she come with me to dance class. She was my responsibility, and I was determined to get her back on track.
But she stood up in front of everyone, yelling that I was a stalker, and even threatened self-harm if I didn't remove the phone tracker.
I hadn't wanted to put that tracker there in the first place.
Back when Caitlyn was little, I was working non-stop to afford her dance lessons.
Seeing me run ragged, she suggested putting a tracker in her watch. It was a way for her to walk home alone while letting me keep tabs on her whereabouts.