Raising Pinocchio

Tales on raising a child with autism and the kismet of living in semi-rural suburbia.

Friday, July 14, 2006

The day begins with the usual aches that come from 38 yrs of living.

A stiff back, mildly painful knees, and a fatigue that simply won't disperse with a night's rest. *sigh* What will another 38 yrs bring?

My husband lies beside me, his breath deep and regular. I wonder what he dreams, this man who couldn't describe a single creative moment in his life at a recent job interview, yet who routinely surprises me with thoughtful acts and passionate opinions. I wonder about my sons: a 3 yr old with mild autism and a 1 yr old with an incredibly generous and jovial personality. I wonder about the girl I was ... the girl who thought she'd grow up to find herself living an incredibly dramatic lifestyle as a poet in France; the young lady who dreamed of travelling for most of her life; the woman who believed that good things happen to good people.

5 Comments:

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