I suppose it’s natural on this day to think about the Wild Woman of Borneo. Think about how I parented this child who has grown up to be such an unholy terror. Near as bad as anyone I’ve come across, and that is saying something. Given my line of work.
She’s certainly blown the doors off of anything resembling a normal life. For herself, for all of us who love her.
Maybe there is a lesson in there. I don’t know. I’m inclined to think that any lesson I try to derive from the whole experience is probably something that I impose on my own rather than something organic to the dynamic.
I love her, though.
Though she kill me.
And her mother.
And all who look her in the eye.
My wife just told me that although she wouldn’t speak to me directly, the kid wished me a happy father’s day from her jail cell, said she loved me and all.
Life goes on.