Lights

The last few years have been exhausting -- nights of screaming, yelling, crying Childe F.. C. is usually the one to rise and deal with the ever demanding beast, I just lay awake, keeping her side of the bed warm while waiting for the wailing to die down before she stumbles back to bed. It's not that I'm selfish, it's just that my nighttime presence sends F. into an even uglier rage-fest. Ferberizing is the cure; it did take for a time before F. arrived on the strategy of puking while crying. This isn't easily ignored and the clean ups are more involved. We know it'll pass eventually, but it sure seems like it's taking it's sweet time.

This morning wasn't much different with the except C. stayed a bit longer abed as it takes a while for her gut muscles take up the slack where normally she'd be using her arms --she can't use them because the risk of damaging the two seams running up her chest where her boobs once resided. She's healing well, and full of energy. I know the inability to drive and the freedom it brings, annoys her, but there is light at the end of that tunnel too. The drains come out early this coming week, the healing progressing quickly to the point of better mobility and all that brings.

As prepared myself for the morning walk with the dog, F. announced she wanted to come. So while I was getting dog paraphernalia (bags, balls, leash, etc.) F. hussled and got her boots and jacket on --raring to go.

We made it as far as the end of our short cul-de-sac before she went ass-over-tea-kettle on the side of the road. She walked slower until we crossed the road and into Gyro Park. The sun was shining, the birds singing, a skein of ducks flew overhead and landed in a large puddle --Lucy took after them and F. charged to the playground. For the first time, in a long time, I had a moment to meditate and reflect of the beauty of where and how we live. At that moment, I knew that everything was going to be be OK. No voice of God or anything, just the sheer certainty that it was going to be alright. Guess I finally caught a glimpse of that long forgotten light.