The more I think about the scars my son’s head hold, the more I think about how deep they run. It is inevitable. They hold weeks of pacing hospital floors until my back hurt. they hold months and months of pent-up anxiety, until my hair fell out. they hold years of marriage disintegrating in a few weeks time. they hold a sweet secure daughter on the precipice of folding. A house that stopped all at once after strawberry picking. They hold the story of a life well-built, unfolding quickly…in a matter of days into chaos.
Everything I once held dear, my garden, my children, my time watching them grow, my marriage, my world, my friends, my well constructed life……gone. In a flash. All contained within a scar. That dear boy’s head contains the remnants of a former life filled with fluff.
His scar is one that makes me remember how I used to fill every minute of every day with SOMETHING. I never rested in the quiet place or tried to be still.
I was building this
Instead of paying attention to this
or building this
instead of looking at this
oh crap, marriage….that thing we used to do before we had nothing but save your butt mode…oh yes…. we used to kiss, we used to sleep in the same room before our brain-damaged son wandered the night. before we were afraid he would kill himself trying to get down the stairs. oh….maybe its time to move back in and make the word right again……life has been fractured in the deepest way. we still have not put ourselves back together again…not yet, but were starting…
perhaps this year, with a lot of gumption and tears, we can glue back together our lives…..its about choices…not this,
I love my kids, and I love spending time with them. It has been much underrated by me in the past. This has all changed now.
These times are different and beautiful. I feel like my family is the center of my being.