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Friday, November 7, 2014

Sensitive Boy, My Gift

What does it feel like to be inside of your body, my little 9-year-old man? Have these last three thousand and sum days of your life smothered your brightness already, making you older than you ought to be? Another morning is here where I try to help you rise, but you are heavy as a great cracked turtle, head aching, pulling inward and away from the pancakes and plans for the day where your sister dances with joy.

This morning I can see the chaos and confusion under your soft brow, scrunched up and tight. Offended by people moving this way and that, too fast, out of sync, making demands. Bright light everywhere, invading, complicated sounds, places to be. Fingers pointing. Hook faced frowns. Hurry up. Wait. Stop. Say your sorry. Get yourself together now. Get dressed. You feel it all, your little body overflows. Kaleidoscopes of sounds are screaming in your head, while most of us hear nothing but our own dull voices. Birds singing, brother and sister chattering downstairs, Daddy booming words, dogs barking in the echoing field, cars rumbling by, my distant voice. So often you live in the unseen and unheard, but are misunderstood as stealing the present. Sometimes they say your are distracting, annoying, inconvenient.

The cold air and open space outside of your nest of down are your enemies this morning.  But you are pulled up and out anyway, up to a life that blinds you, to face another day. You stumble across the icy surface of the floor, feet stinging from the touch of a hardness not made for your gentle body. Stiff bristles of the toothbrush invade your mouth. You turn away. No more Mama. I don't want to GO.  The icy tile surface under your heels sends steel through your veins. You stiffen. Squeal. Jump around waiting for someone to say, “Calm down!” so you can go back and hide.

I feel your body, doubling over, sagging to get back to safety. Under warmth and darkness you creep. But there is another pull. Someone (is that me?) is begging you to get dressed now, eat, gather backpack, coat, get outside, go to a place where hundreds of children cross paths, balls bounce, papers shuffle, faces make little sense, words hurt. I am here with you now, and I feel it all-- I understand.

My sensitive boy, come inside my arms for this moment to a calmer place. You are good as you are. My embrace will shield you from the thunder. Names will bounce from my hardened chest-- ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, Aspergers, Challenging Child, Distraction, Anxious, Annoying. They are flying like birds into the morning sky, raining back down to feed us with forgiveness. Your light is reflecting a rainbow of a gorgeous child, in everything around you. You are my Gift, My Treat, My Lesson of Life, My Love. I feel the world so much more truly, Little Boy, because of you.