Of melodies pure and true

A family rushes around in the morning – grabbing cell phones, chargers, books, papers. They head out the door a little after 8, eerily quiet, yet adrenalin-charged. After two u-turns in search of a Starbucks, they settle for McDonald's. One more u-turn later finds them at the court house.

Purse, watch, phone, belt, all go through the metal detector. The coffee makes it through without scrutiny. Several policemen and detectives whisk through, flashing badges and setting off alarms caused by what everyone assumes are concealed weapons.

As the family approaches the third floor via escalator, the girl sees the lawyers, her father, her step-mother talking. The family approaches their lawyer and they wait. A few words are exchanged and then they go into the court room to wait some more.

A trial is underway, or perhaps the pre-cursor to a trial. Something “legally” is going on regardless, and it holds their attention for a while. Their lawyer comes into the court room and announces that the girl’s father has agreed to the final custody modification. They will not have to go to a jury trial. They will not have to come back to court.

Papers are signed. Judges and lawyers have discussions. Forensic Psychologists talk with the girls father and then makes his way over to her and her mom and step-dad. Her father follows. A few words are exchanged, and then her father approaches her – he extends his arms, he embraces her. The girl breaks down, telling her father that she loves him, that she doesn’t want him to hate her. He says he loves her too and just wants her to feel better, to be happy.

And they all go home.

Now the girls has to figure out how this new life will work. How to heal the wounds. How to be happy again.