i can hear the thunder, it's about to rain. the sky is a dark blue gray and the leaves are almost yellow in contrast. it's beautiful. it looks like my childhood memories of fall. a timeless, place-less emotion. it doesn't match the sounds of tropical birds that are still chirping warnings of the coming storm.
a few weeks ago my girl turned 21. that little blonde head, starfish fingered butter-soft hands, years of Wonder, in the blink of an eye. today i read an article written by her childhood crib-mate, neuro-typical best friend who studies at Brown University about managing anxiety during covid-19. tomorrow mike and i will have a transitional meeting about the plans for zoe's future with her developmental disabilities service coordinator and her support staff at school, zoe's anxiety is too high to attend the meeting. how wide the gap is now. and we'll have that meeting via zoom- we in africa 8000 miles away.
my friend is adopting a wonderful girl with special needs. i'm so often tempted to run to her, to hug her, to ask so many things. are you okay? no really- you can tell me if you're not. tell her that it's okay if you are and you aren't at the same moment because that is where i live. and are you ready? do you know your world is now changed forever? that forever will be bittersweet, but that bittersweet is better because you taste way more flavor when you live in that contrast. the truth is i wouldn't change a bit of it. i wish for zoe life was easier, but i wouldn't change her for a second, she's one of my favorite people.
life is so dang beautiful and hard and intense, isn't it? it's like the sky right now. all the things. all the pieces. singing birds and thunder. car mufflers and neighbor children's laughter. dark clouds and ambient light on yellow leaves. people doing the best they can with what they have, with who they are, moments frozen, time moving. my heart is weeping, my mouth smiling, my eyes are dry. my mind full of Wonder.
