melted

Two hours, and I’m in a different place. “These thoughts and feelings WILL pass”, I repeat to myself. 

I stop to observe my J bug. Wide eyes, a blonde mop of hair, teeth with gaps that all show when she smiles. She smiles often. Her laughs of delight come out freely. “I wish I could be as happy as J bug”, I think for the 1,000th time in her two year existence. 

I’m outside myself now. Not sure if that’s good or bad but it is where I am. 

She and I play games where we touch noses then I smell her feet followed by rounds of fake sneezing (you’d have to be there). This child’s autism enriches her delight. She belly laughs, and it makes me laugh. 

Then I lay in bed. A asks me to “lay with one arm under me and one on top of me”. He brings his iPad: “I thought it would be a good family activity to watch a show together”. 

I wasn’t hugged often that I remember. Certainly never cuddled, not once in my memory. I wasn’t allowed in my parents’ room. I don’t remember my mom putting me to bed. My dad spoke only in third person, “daddy loves you”, and gave me three quick, rhythmic kisses on the head. 

I hope I do enough differently. These kids heal me. I’ll live vicariously through them.