On Tuesday, my 17 month old was putting rocks in my hand. After about 10 or 11, they started falling, so she put new ones into my other hand. I thought about this post as I sat in the sprinkling rain and switched from watching her concentrating little face to watching the top rock in my full hand, barely balanced in place. It tipped to either side easily if I moved my hand, so precarious was its perch.
When I was 19 years old, I had a car accident. And here we are, 19 years later. I survived and recovered. I have been seizure free for 12 years, and medication free for nine. I still have double vision. I still don’t have feeling in my left thigh, so I can’t feel when Wee One is trying to get my attention touching me there.
I have been looking forward to this anniversary because now, I don’t know, now it feels complete. Its like my hand is full, the story is full. The time I get after this is a bonus, like the rocks in my other hand.
Go ahead and get more, baby girl.
One thought on “How Many Rocks Will Fit?”
It sounds like a very poignant moment. Those moments of feeling like you’ve survived something and moved on, to a world better than you’d ever even imagined, are moments of bliss.