Thursday, March 3, 2011
I see your big brown eyes gazing fixed out the dingy window. I wave to you, smiling brightly, encouraging my one year old to wave her dimpled hand too.
I know you see me, though you don't smile or wave back. I know you do. I see it in the way your stare follows me even as the big yellow bus pulls away.
I also know I'm the first one who's waved to you today.
I want you to know how badly I want to gather you into my home, welcome you to my table, and bake you dairy-free cookies. I want to watch you play, or not, and wonder what thoughts are pouring through your busy mind.
I want you to know how very special you are and how very loved. If I could whisper in your ear, I would reassure you that you're perfect. You're exactly as you should be. You grow more amazing each day, sweet little boy.
It's easy for me, see, because I am just the woman outside the window. I am not the one who endures the day in and day out struggles. If you yell inappropriate things at the lunch table, I can shrug it off. If you refuse to say one single word at a birthday party, it causes me no grief or embarrassment. If you aren't "typical", well, I think that's just swell.
I want to hug your mama, too, though I know the act would put her off. She loves you so much. She's so tired. She wants amazing things for you and, sometimes, I think we focus so much on the amazing THINGS we want that we miss the amazing moments. Like the one day you showed me a picture you drew...
You ARE amazing, precious child, and I look forward to waving to you next Tuesday.