there was a story about an 11 year old boy who commited suicide;
my friend received word that she would be operated on for the second time in a month and a half the day after Christmas, I was sitting next to her when she received the phone call;
Luca called to tell me that the first audiologist who ever visited Jordan died of a brain tumor...
As we sat in the cafe, two teenagers were holding hands at the table across from us;
Jordan came home from school with more good grades and a smile;
Sofia has a friend over and they're playing fairy tale video games- the usual Snow White and Cinderella stuff;
I'm still smiling about the fb love from my birthday (thank you:-).
I am soaking in the rays...I don't need that big ball of sunshine every single day...one ray can do the job to push me through the day- I just have to have enough faith to find it.
7 comments:
you don't know how much this post spoke to me today. Your way with words is amazing. No ball of sunshine here right now, but I'm clinging to faith as I think of my rays.
Hugs to you from me.
Get in touch? see www.ccacaptioning.org, join? or send me your questions.
We are very international now!
best
ls for the ccac
email me and then i'll reply with my own email address, thanks!
And hugs to you from me...you are one of those people that spits rays without even knowing it...
You are a smart cookie and I love your posts. They are always so original and thoughtful. Sometimes they make me laugh, sometimes they make me cry, but every time, I think how I wish I could take you to lunch or maybe just have a cocktail (LOL) and just shoot the breeze. xo
Seems like you have become deeply philosophical in your Jack Benny year. 39. It's a great year. Life is good eternally, even in sadness. Sometimes that is when it's at its best-- looking back. Weird to say that I think, and some people will wonder what I mean but I think you know. I'm wishing your ball of sunshine could have reached the dark spot that eleven year old was in. Happy belated birthday.
Perspective really is everything. Sometimes when I have to do the things to Amelia that no mother should have to do to her child (suction her throat with a catheter that sometimes gags her and other times gives her hiccups for a long, long time or put in a new g-tube, or cauterize her g-tube site, or pushing her through physical challenges -- like crawling 10 feet -- while she cries and howls at me, etc), I cry. It's unfair that a child, who looks to her parents for safety, has to endure any of it. And it is unfair....but it's life. And I am so lucky to have Amelia here with me on this earth. I know many parents from the NICU who didn't get to bring their children home with them. And so, Although Amelia may not realize it, I am keeping her safe with all the horrible machinations we go through each day -- but she's here and she's thriving and laughing and playing. I am the luckiest Mom on earth for that! xoxo to you and that gang of yours over there
Paula...one day we will have that cappuccino...
Kim- You are spot on:-) even in sadness, especially in sadness..
Debbie- Amelia is the luckiest as are all of the people you touch because you share the love.
It's a particular moment filled with particular thoughts about minute particulars. And somehow even throughout the difficulties, I feel particularly fine.
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