dream world of our self-oriented thinking to look and
feel only too real.
Anger
The look of utter despair and silent pleading for me
not to get angry etched into my daughter Naushon's
11-year-old face as I am getting out of the car at her
friend's house early one Sunday morning does
penetrate my awareness, but not completely enough
to rein in the annoyance and anger which she sees
rising in me, and which she fears will make a scene
and embarrass her. I am feeling too much momentum
in this moment to stop completely, although later I
would wish I had. I wished that I had let her look stop
me in that moment, touch me, turn me toward seeing
what was really important - namely, that she feels she
can depend on me and trust me rather than fear that I
will betray her or mortify her emerging social
sensitivity. But I am too upset in this moment about
being manipulated by her friend, who was supposed
to be ready at a certain time and isn't, to fully
appreciate my daughter's problem here.