Spring is bleed season. Eden falls, he gets bumped, and he runs around until the spaces between his ankle bones begin to fill with blood. It happens every year when the weather gets warm.
Eden is so unlike Sage. Sage would get a hint of a scrape and happily go to bed for several days. No injury ever went unnoticed or unattended. Eden is different. He keeps going, cheerfully, until someone notices he is limping.
He was two when his ankle first betrayed him, bleeding and swelling, and he limped along happily, and I could not get him to sit down and rest. His ankle has never been the same, and it flares up sometimes, like today.
He is like that emotionally, too, happily moving along, content with his allotment of attention, which is a somewhat smaller portion than his brothers, especially Jude, who is consuming. I am consumed. I wish I could find balance, but it is almost impossible. Sometimes Eden and I sneak off like secret lovers to read books and draw things, but sometimes the day has gotten away and he is in bed before I know it, and another day of his childhood has slipped through my hands.
Today his ankle is doing its thing, swollen and red and painful. I saw him limping on the way out the door to a friend's house, and now we are on the couch together, trying to hold still, trying not to bleed or hurt too much. If we are very still we can taste what love is, and know our hearts, and see the sun filter through the curtains, and remember that we love each other, and hold today, just this hour inside our hearts. This is serious business, and our job today is to admit we are hurting, and let the healing begin.
Eden is so unlike Sage. Sage would get a hint of a scrape and happily go to bed for several days. No injury ever went unnoticed or unattended. Eden is different. He keeps going, cheerfully, until someone notices he is limping.
He was two when his ankle first betrayed him, bleeding and swelling, and he limped along happily, and I could not get him to sit down and rest. His ankle has never been the same, and it flares up sometimes, like today.
He is like that emotionally, too, happily moving along, content with his allotment of attention, which is a somewhat smaller portion than his brothers, especially Jude, who is consuming. I am consumed. I wish I could find balance, but it is almost impossible. Sometimes Eden and I sneak off like secret lovers to read books and draw things, but sometimes the day has gotten away and he is in bed before I know it, and another day of his childhood has slipped through my hands.
Today his ankle is doing its thing, swollen and red and painful. I saw him limping on the way out the door to a friend's house, and now we are on the couch together, trying to hold still, trying not to bleed or hurt too much. If we are very still we can taste what love is, and know our hearts, and see the sun filter through the curtains, and remember that we love each other, and hold today, just this hour inside our hearts. This is serious business, and our job today is to admit we are hurting, and let the healing begin.
3 comments:
Just beautiful.
I am a stay at home mother of five.My son Ian, 13, is autistic and my son Riley, 12 has ADHD. I am so inspired by your writing. Its good to know I'm not alone! Keep writing. And keep praying.
Rebecca Powell
Thinking of you today! Praying for your fam
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