![]() I couldn't know, I guessed, until I found out what she would tell me. Would I leave if she told me she believed in God? I wasn't sure. She flicked her wrist into the space between us, dismissive but attentive. What was the colour of the wood: ash how many meters off the ground the balcony stood: twelve or fourteen what the view was like from above the trees stunning, magnificent. I needed time to decide what to do if I discovered she was indeed the worshiping type. Around her neck dangled a thick black cross, and that first time I saw it, I thought: Is she religious? I couldn’t ask her, of course, so I told her about the visions in as much detail as possible. I shook my head and we both placed our masks on the coffee table subversive but filled with hope. When I sat down, she pointed to her surgical mask and asked me whether I minded if she removed it. Margaret hired a room in a brick and tile community building just out of the city. He booked me in for one hour with a woman named Margaret. ![]() Anyway, I was too weepy to organise therapy for myself. ![]() This is something he thought I would interpret as an act of support, and for the most part, I did. But in the visions, they were three and four and ten. My children are all in their twenties now. Each morning I was barely able smile at him from across the breakfast table. I told my husband about them that they were making me exhausted and privately weepy. My visions happened every night and for quite a while. Then each one of them would slip under the plank, one, two, three, down, down, down, arms and legs flailing in the air, until I would startle, our bed gently bouncing. Their little bellies would be pressed right up to the railing, I can still imagine the red line left on their skin. They would be standing on an elevated balcony above a forest of trees-I’m not sure which kind, perhaps Pine or Tōtara-and between them and the trees was a single plank of four-by-four. She died immediately on impact, according to the article.Īfter I read about the little girl, I would lie in bed beside my husband each night and close my eyes to visions of my own children. The girl was small and fell under the railing that surrounded the water tank. I started having awful anxiety about my children after I read an article on a news website about a little girl falling from a water tower. "Why does it matter if your children fall from a balcony?" ReadingRoom Short story: The therapist, by Danielle Heyhoe
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