Three Years

I wrote the very first entry of my blog on Mother's Day of 2006. Happy 3rd birthday, blog o' mine. I have never loved and hated something so much at the same time. Of course, this excludes a little something called Williams syndrome.

WITH TIME

With time
you will learn to shoulder dense burdens
so incredibly heavy they once made your heart strain
and your lips mutter groans of agony
that the universe didn't seem to hear.

With time
what seemed unbearable will become mundane,
and the narrow tunnels for vision
will swell to allow the rest of the world
to come into focus at last,
although you will never see things the same.

With time
even your nightmares will fade,
yielding the power they once had to
twist you into a sweaty knot in bed
and jolt you from sleep, wrapped up in damp sheets.

With time
you will appreciate the sweet, buzzing numbness--
the anesthesia you will fight with all your might at first
but learn to succomb to in order to feel less
and attempt to endure more.

And you will endure more.

With time
you will learn there is no other option.

With time
you will simply learn to prevail.

Special

My boy is special
because of the strange x-ray vision he has
that allows him to delight in the faces of angels
on the people around us
when I can only see hardness and cruelty,
no matter how hard I try.

I am blind, but he can see.

My boy is special
because he clings tightly to me like an extension of my body
to the sound of planes rumbling and heavy above us in the sky,
making me feel as if I am twelve feet tall and made of steel.

My boy is special
because his voice cuts through the garbage made of
politics, pain, hate, and sadness,
leaving nothing behind but fresh, surprised smiles.

My boy is special
because his innocence is permanent,
forever altering the way he interprets his surroundings
in a foreign world I will never fully understand
but catch glimpses of through the starbursts in his eyes.

My boy is special
because he will need to be twice as strong as I ever was
to make it in this world.

Even in the midst of thousands of angels.

Symbiotic

The mountains stand silent guard
steeped in the ailing remnants of night,
prepared to accept the first blush of sunrise
over earthtone puffs of frosty sage

I stand guard over my towheaded boy,
still sleeping and mumbling of firetrucks and excavators.
I'm armed only with a cup of rapidly cooling coffee,
prepared to accept his first contagious grins
that come when he opens sky-colored eyes.

I sigh and allow the great wall inside of me
to lift with a creak to admit the memories and thoughts
that insist upon haunting me like rude houseguests,
and feel them trickle into my once wonderfully sleep-numb brain,
simply too heavy to hold back for another hour.

My heart aches sweetly as I watch him
slumber in a koala bear-curl, clutching the tattered remains
of a formerly perfect, fluffy stuffed puppy
received at my perfect, pastel baby shower.
I marvel at the feelings in my heart that still reach me
through so many years of twisted scars and damage.

This child lives because I care for him.

I am reborn this morning as he unknowingly returns the favor,
even as he sleeps.

I live because he cares for me.

Special

There is a special place in life,
that needs my humble skill,
A certain job I'm meant to do,
which no one else can fulfill.

The time will be demanding,
the pay is not too good,
and I wouldn't change it
for a moment, even if I could.

There is a special place in life.
A goal I must attain,
a dream that I must follow.
Because I won't be back again.
There is a mark that I must leave.
However small it seems to be.
A legacy of love for those
who follow after me.

There is a special place in life,
that only I may share.
A little path that bears my name,
awaiting me somewhere.

There is a hand that I must hold,
a word that I must say,
a smile that I must give,
for there are tears to blow away.

There is a special place in life
that I was meant to fill.
A sunny spot where flowers grow,
upon a windy hill.

There's always a tomorrow and the
best is yet to be, for somewhere
in this world, I know there
is a place for me.

-- Author Unknown

Validation

The girl sitting beside me
tells her story
of her toddling boy
with the slanted face
and the holes in his heart.

Oxygen fills his nose nightly
while he sleeps,
and an alarm rings
when the sighing stops.

The woman across from me
prayed for me last week
because I was too quiet
and my face was too pale.
She says she had that look once.

This girl sitting beside me
explains she gave life to her son,
she will care for her son,
and she will bury him when all is done.

There are reassurances murmured
about advances in medicine
and how miracles will happen;
but we turn to each other,
and our eyes finally meet.

I see it there.

The truth is in her grasp,
and she is searching for peace
with what will come,
all the while patiently nodding
polite maybes back at them all.

Her stoic face is calm and dry,
and as the topic changes,
I am the only one to tell her
that this is so tough.

Then I am quiet and pale again.

To Erik

You are small but powerful.
A superhero in concentrate form,
A pajama-clad streak traversing the room at light speed --
A shooting star of my very own.