Progress

My daughter has been in her new city for about seven months now, and she’s finally thriving. Not doing well financially—I admittedly help her pay her rent—but she has a job, a couple of friends, and doesn’t complain at all.

Before I go on, I need to defend myself for helping her with rent. If I don’t, she might:

• End up homeless
• Live in her car
• Give up on life
• Move home

Choice d is the worst one for me since I prefer that she isn’t in my line of vision. I love her madly and deeply, but it was hard when she lived here, knowing that I didn’t approve of her lifestyle and having the threat of seeing it in full color hanging over my head. She’s so far away that I’ll never see the bad behaviors, the mountain of cats and dogs, and the dirty housekeeping. She and her lifestyle are out of my face. I haven’t received an invitation to visit, by the way.

So after many conversations over the months during which she’d tell me how hard she was working to find a job, and how she might just live in her car somewhere, she finally found a job that she is apparently hanging on to. It’s not anything like what she was doing, but it figures that it’s in the “marijuana distribution industry,” which is legal where she lives.

Here’s the thing, though. She doesn’t know I know; she hasn’t told me where she works or what she does there. She only said she’s working in “retail.” For months, I thought she was working in a convenience store (she had hinted that she might), so even though I was surprised and rather disappointed, I kept it to myself. Her sister spilled the beans on her. I still haven’t let on that I know where she works because the few times I’ve spoken with her, she’s been so positive about this job, that I don’t want my tone to get in the way of her joy.

Apparently, she continues to be a hard worker, they like her a lot, she was already promoted, and she’s made some friends. She’s always had trouble keeping friends, so I’m happy for her. I don’t expect that they’re grad students or homeowners, but I hope they’re at least nice to her.

I don’t speak with her very often. I’ve let that calm down because I think I’ve historically overwhelmed her with concern. I told myself that I didn’t need to ask so many questions, as I’m not always able to handle the answers and she gets angry. If I get a text once every two weeks, that’s a lot these days. Even on Mother’s Day, she was pretty sparse. She sent a text with a meme that said the words for her. No phone call or card, just that. At least she remembered she has a mother.