Love Always

To Calvin’s Angels (on the auspicious occasion of his graduation from at-home therapy this week...and kindergarten just breaths away...)

There's a word for someone who comes into your life, who comes into your home, right when your heart’s at its most broken, your mind all places at once, and nowhere.

You didn't see it coming, but you have this little guy, and at two and a half he's not speaking, and not pointing at things, and not looking most folks in the eye (except for mommy, the last one to notice, and don’t think for a second she won’t torture herself over that, time and again, for years upon end).

So this someone, she comes to the rescue (yours? his?), swoops into the house with her songs, with her puzzles, with bubbles, with toys...the awesomest, awesomest toys...

Elsewhere they say (through white coats and small minds and 15-minute appointment slots):

How discouraging, not making the progress we'd hoped. Well, I guess you could try these here drugs, or those ones, and assume it’s as good as it gets…Next…

But in my home it goes a different way, something more like:

Aha, ok, so I'll teach him like this, then like that…alright, now it’s time for this other way. (There’s always, ALWAYS another way, by the way.) We’ll all sit together, we’ll meet and brainstorm, and just see what he’ll do, where he’ll go, how he’ll learn.

So one day he spells his name (and your jaw hits the floor), and another day he knows the name of his town, and what month it is, and how old he is, and the days of the week, and he marches, and dances, and loves to play drums, and sings favorite songs.

One day he even comes right up to you, looks you straight in the eye and says, "I want waffles." (And you hold yourself back from toasting up every last waffle in the freezer for him…because somehow you have to make sure that he knows just how brilliant he is and how proud you are, unspeakably, unfathomably proud.)

Another day his big sister comes in for a hug, and instead of his usual push, he takes hold of her arms and wraps them around himself, grinning with glee. So that next she gets bolder and grabs hands for a game, and they spin and they squeal, and he’s looking right at her, and deep belly-laughing, and all you can do is sit back, watch, and breathe, eyes wet, face hurting from smiling.

So much of the world sees only the damage, and so many "friends" see only the damage. You see it there, written boldface in their eyes, so scary it is that it could have been them, so glad that it isn’t, so relieved they are that what’s happened to yours hasn’t happened to theirs.

But that's not what you read in the eyes of the one who's come into your life, who's come into your home. Her eyes hold a different story altogether, one that you recognize like some strange déjà vu, wonder why so familiar, then it hits you.

Her eyes look at him like your eyes look at him.

Melt-your-heart kind of tenderness shines out her eyes, just like you'd expect when she looks at her own, her own little love, waiting for her back home. She says with her eyes, and her smile, and her words,

What a mush, such a love, I could just eat him up! Here's my great Calvin tale of the day.

They each have their own private jokes with your boy, their own games, their own language, and you grow to love it, you love how this…this coven of enchantresses has entered your life to share this new world, to fathom its mysteries right there by your side.

It could be so lonely, scary as hell, unnavigable, chaos…but it’s not, not so much.

Not with such hands to hold on to.

Because little by little the glimmer that’s there, in and behind your little one's eyes, your little one's smile, grows brighter and brighter, and crisper, and lighter…until one day you realize, how dazzling!

Yes, there's a word for this one who comes into your life, who comes into your home, as little by little your heart begins stitching itself back together, your mind quiets down, the gifts this child brings coming sharper in focus, more known to you now.

Some call her a teacher. Of course that’s what she is. Me, I prefer angel. And family forever. And friend of my heart. The breath of fresh air that came through the front door, and the hope that blew right on through with her.

But whatever I call her, I’m grateful forever. All my love to you, ladies. Always.