What She Was Right About

My sister said the thing Mom used to say—

if someone wants to leave, let them.

Don't turn your hands into a cage.

I was at the sink when she said it.

My hands actually in dishwater,

and suddenly I understood.

All those times Mom told me this,

I thought she was giving up, afraid,

too tired to believe in the yes that might come later.

So I didn't listen. I held on anyway.

I waited. I sent messages to people

who'd already left. I performed devotion

for an audience that had already walked out.

Now I'm watching my sister do the same thing.

Holding still. Waiting. Convinced that patience

is the same as loyalty, that if she just

doesn't let go, the person will come back

because they'll realize what they're missing.

I could tell her what Mom was teaching us:

they're not coming back.

The holding on is the thing that damages you.

But she's twenty-eight and stubborn.

She needs to learn it the way I did—

by being wrong first,

by wasting years before she understands

that some knowledge only arrives

after it would have been useful.