only the beginning
With a new year,
Comes reflection of one past,
And anticipation for one ahead,
Stretching tantilisingly blank with possibilities.
I can still see in my review mirror,
The distances Isaac has travelled,
The gains collected,
But unmistakably the scars marking me along the way.
But for his improvements,
I can (almost) always,
Cover my wounds,
And search for the next destination.
And the year gone,
Was one of dramatic improvement,
Breaking fourteen kilograms,
At almost four years,
A feat in itself,
Giving him a slightly stronger stature,
To his lean string-bean body.
He finds his words more day by day,
With a determination for attempts,
To repeat everything he hears,
And an unmissable glint when he recognises his accuracy.
He can pedal his modified bike by himself.
Giving me full view of an independence,
I only dreamed I’d see.
Toilet training took flight,
Taking us all by surprise.
And with his growth,
His cognition built in leaps and bounds,
Becoming accessible to him,
As he learns how to demonstrate it through voice,
Making me giddy with excitement,
At the door opening up,
To truly getting to know him,
With his quirks,
And sense of humour.
So much to be proud of.
Yet while I can write how our year in front,
Aims to focus on speech,
To create quality of movement and voice by reducing effort,
Throughout his whole system,
So he can develop well beyond his diagnosis.
It is still a long,
And windy road.
And I cannot freeze time,
Allowing him to catch up to his peers.
For with age,
Comes a new level of demands,
Of life’s stepping stones,
Rite’s of passage,
Which I wouldn’t dream of taking away from him.
Anxiety-struck by how the transition from the home life,
To the first of schools institutes,
Furnished for the norm,
Not the physically compromised,
Knowing too much to be ignorant in bliss,
Yet naive in just how tough it is yet to become.
And my safety net can only cast so far,
Leaving him exposed,
In the care of others,
In the pond of masses.
I just don’t know how it will work,
And I’m afraid for him.
I can see clearly,
My inability to let go,
For the added realm in an already complicated existence.
Blind-sided by the practicalities of life,
Beyond our four walls.
A life of compromise.
Of struggling to find ways to fit the mould,
Made so blatantly,
Not for us.
A fact I am not sure I’m ready to face,
Or more accurately not equipped to deal with.
And a fact,
Despite my diligence,
We’re merely on the brink,
So I cannot yet possibly truly fathom,
But one I must wade through,
In all its thickness,
In order to fully grasp,
Just how different our journey will be.
This is only the beginning.
But like everything thus far,
All we can do is dive in head first,
Hope we find the life-rafts along the way,
Or the strength to fight like mad to stay afloat.
And take solace from Isaac’s calm.