Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Even if the best I can hope for seems small to the whole world, it's worth the world to me. I'm talking about Caleb's genuine smile and the way he marches when really happy. Last Sunday, we shared a picnic in the wind. How he enjoyed that wind! Later, in his room, his smile faded and he headed for the dayroom couch. It's a comfort zone for him, and where he goes to relax. He tucks his face into the crook of his arm and this means, Leave Me Alone. But I was still there, still wanting to do a puzzle and color with him, to read aloud. I wanted more than two hours of his time. I sat on a rug next to the couch and opened his photo album. As I pointed out familiar pictures, as he sometimes likes, he became agitated, seemingly with my presence. To give him some space and myself a moment to think, I moved to his room. He usually says, "Tell Mama goodbye" and gives me a hug when he's ready to end our time together, but he hadn't done that. Maybe he forgot the words? So I asked him if it was time for me to go. He looked up briefly and said "Yeah" then reburied his face in his arm. Sadness washed over me and the fun of the afternoon vanished. I gave him a hug and turned to go. But once outside, I noticed I'd left the photo album and his sheets, which needed washing. About three minutes had elapsed when the automatic door opened, allowing me back in. There was my Caleb, marching, smiling, and laughing. This was the best. Worth all the world to me.