On the Side of the Road

Driving home from an early morning Pilate's class, I saw a bus ahead of me with yellow lights blinking. I slowed down and stopped behind the short bus as the lights turned red. I sighed as I watched an attendant in a reflector vest slowly climb down the stairs and cross Latouche Road. I looked at the clock: 7:55, thirty-five minutes till I need to be at work. Why did I choose this route?

And then I saw the girl with the awkward gait walk from behind the snow bank, her Mom at her side.

I watched as the dark-haired mother held her little girl's arm and treaded carefully across the ice towards the bus attendant. The mom pointed out waiting cars and kissed her daughter's cheek before releasing her to the hefty man. And she stood on the side of the road watching, as he guided her daughter across the street and up the bus stairs. She stayed watching as they walked down the aisle and he strapped her in the back seat.

The woman waved her arm high above her head, making rainbows in the brightening sky. The attendant mirrored her wave, on behalf of the daughter, who sat in her seat, hands down.

The Mom's face, like a hungry child peeking through a window at a Thanksgiving feast, was pleading, hopeful, brave, look at me, I'm here, I see you.

Tears of recognition replaced my concerns about a tight morning schedule.

I'm struggling with understanding both of my children as of late. Olive with her dramatic tantrums, triggered by the slightest shake of the head or the softest no.  With her though, I can write her behavior off as the oh-so-wonderful-terrible-twos. Elias, on the other hand, is an enigma. Nothing typical, not even within his multiple diagnoses. Even his type of cerebral palsy, ataxic, is atypical. His limited vision confusing. And well, the reason they call it Autism Spectrum Disorder is because there is such a wide range of behaviors and traits that children exhibit.

Elias is a former micro-preemie with special needs but really, what does that mean?

The other night he came running to our door before midnight, crying. I jumped out of bed and scooped him up into my arms. "What's wrong Babe?" No answer. I brought him into bed with us and he cuddled his skinny body into my curves. "Did you have a dream?" No answer. "You're safe, Elias, you're safe right here with me."

And yet I don't always know how to reach him. How to keep him safe.

From what crevice do his tears flow? What does he think about when he lays down at night?

Like the Mom on the side of the road, I am standing on the edge of knowing, painting the sky blue with my waves, wondering what my boy sees and feels. Wondering, always wondering, where this this road leads.

Comments

[alison]

you are amazing.

[Carey]

Very moving post Christy. I wish I had some answers for you...

[fleming]

“It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us.” written by Norman Maclean. That quote has always stuck with me. It can be a confusing and painful journey but we just keep trying. I had a hard day today with Angus. After some time apart we went to our neighbors pond for an hour or two of fishing. We didn't catch anything but quietly sitting near each other without speaking knit us back together somehow. Maybe you and Elias need some time away without Olive? Just a thought. xo.

[Christy]

I remember that line speaking to me as well in A River Runs Through It. Thanks for sharing it here Fleming. And yes, time spent one-on one with my kids always helps. Yesterday Olive and I had some puddle time together and I was re-enchanted with my feisty daughter. I'll try to do the same with Elias this weekend. Thank you Carey, just being there helps. And Alison, right back at ya:)

[Nurse Tara]

Look at me, I'm here, I see you, made me burst into tears, very moving post christy. I'm still here following you even though I don't comment, I'm still always reading.