Part Eleven of The Unseen Sea

“You didn’t listen–you never listen!”

Maria is angry. Grandad Lucca has seen it many times. Recent events have, of course, made things worse. Maria has opened the gates and it floods at her father, the only other person in the house.

“It’s not much to ask – just don’t fill her little head with all this mystical stuff!”

Grandad Lucca nods, letting the anger flow from his beloved daughter without resistance on his part. He waits, one hand cupped in the other, while the rage is vented, knowing how it ends. He does not deflect the emotion. He listens into its flow, knowing that, although the state of presence in which the truth lives is difficult to maintain in the face of such powerful emotions, it will help Maria as they bring their combined consciousness to bear on what would, otherwise, be damaging. It’s a process that his daughter has no time for, but participates in, unconsciously, glad of its results, though he would never say so.

When she is finished and crying. He walks quietly to the small galley kitchen – his favourite place in the whole cottage. He fills the two cups of coffee he had prepared earlier, when she arrived, looking like thunder, after the gruelling drive.

“Did Jessica’s return to school go badly?” he asks, gently.

“Quite the opposite,” Maria sobs into her steaming coffee mug. “She faced down the bully with her new ‘big heart’ and is now a celebrity…”

“And you don’t want her to be a celebrity?” he asks, gently.

“I don’t want her to be in anyone’s spotlight.” The sobs are subsiding, the emotion washes around the room, fading into sorrow and regret as they breath it in and out.

Except your own…

It’s not about Jessica, thinks Grandad Lucca. It’s about the one who is missing.

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