More Pi

So yesterday Pi and I were talking about the sanctuary and how good of a place it is for him.

He said, "I probably wouldn't have gone there if you had been willing to co-sign that lease when I asked you to. I almost want to say thank you for not helping me."

I do understand. It was one thing when he was homeless and we refused to rescue him. I mean, just a few months before that I had said, "I want you to know that I think the decisions you are making are going to result in your being unemployed, broke and homeless. You need to know that if that happens I will not rescue you."

But the second time...when he was living in the college town in California and could not get a lease because of his credit history (bad checks, defaulted cell phone contract, who knows what else) and we refused to sign a lease because we really could not afford to pay the rent if he defaulted, that still stings. He kept trying to explain that all he needed us to do was sign a piece of paper. We kept trying to explain that if he thought that was all it was, we really could not sign it.

The plan to go to the sanctuary was originally part of a plan to convince me to sign the lease. It did not work, of course. He went to the sanctuary because he could think of nothing else, and it worked out wonderfully.

But I do understand him feeling torn about the idea of thanking me.

I just love having him home. I'm sure if he were here longer he would eventually get on my nerves, but right now, I am thrilled.

I was so fortunate that I started doing care with him. Now I can be someone's auntie. I can accept that a kid like Evan needs a mentor and a friend, needs someone who won't push emotionally intimacy. When I started of course I wanted to be a mommy. Pi's mother had died. He had had time to mourn her. He was ready for a second mother. He was ready to have a father. We were able to pull him into our family and make him one of us.

He used to joke that he wanted to be part of a real family (as opposed to the foster homes he had been part of before) but we were a little too much. Other families were individuals who lived in the same house but we were just one person; we were the borg. I don't know how he thought we would respond to that. We laughed and started calling him "five of five."

Have I mentioned that I LOVE having him home?