Skip to main content

when I'm 18

Peaceful morning swinging often lures the philosophical from Trevor. Earlier this week he was laying back, arms behind his head, while I gently pushed and chatted with him. Somehow as were talking the number 18 was mentioned.


He sighed, "I'm just thinking about me at 18."


"Oh? And what are you thinking?"


"Drive a car."


He craned his head to make eye contact and observed my facial expression, which was probably a mix of sad surprise.


He turned back around and continued, "Yeah, I'd love to drive a car when I'm 18."


At that precise moment we heard a rumble in the sky above.


After a pause he said, "Or an airplane."


What am I going to do with this boy? First a car? Now planes! It's the sweetest thing that he's grown very aware of his "special needs". In fact, if he likes a person, the first thing he wants to share with them is "my special needs". When we meet random strangers in our daily ventures and someone is especially kind, he'll often whisper to me, "I think they must know special needs". One day last week he found my Infantile Spasms Awareness shirt in the bathroom and wore it all day. I'm sure I'm only aware of a fraction of his feelings about his "special needs".


I swear he's a little bit magic. There is untold beauty in the way he embraces his diagnosis but doesn't let it become a barrier to his dreams.


Now, if he could just teach his mom how to do the same!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

No, I don’t know him personally

  I’ve had several emails today asking if I know Mike W. of Marissa’s Bunny personally.    Trevy’s blog was linked on her site.  Although it’s not now.     I’ve posted here and there at his request.  Because…well…we’re a community.  Us IS families.  And Marissa is wicked cute.  Her daddy has a way with words.  Also who wouldn’t want the world to know about an iPad give-away?    But aside from that…I know about as much as you do.    We’ve never met in person.    Our only communication has been cyber.    I’m a ginormous sap and as such would love to believe that all is right.  That the sweet, beautiful families who were promised iPads will be getting them tonight.  Tomorrow at the latest.  That no one has been lied to.  That the personal thank you for your generosity email I sent him on behalf of other IS families I’ve grown to love and was thrilled to learn w...

I sure hope...

they grow back curly! Saw the "unknown" flashing on the face of my cell phone and knew who it was. Who it had to be. Dr. Fellow. My eyes met Grams' and I nodded. Grams has a pool, see. For super hot days like today. We're also having a septic installed. Which meant no water or facilities at my place. But those weren't really the reasons I was there. Close to mom. The purple ringing thing in my hand was. Only I wasn't prepared for it to be ringing SO darn soon. Shortly after lunch instead of dinner! I swallowed. Took a deep breath. And clicked connect. Dr. Fellow has a very nice phone tone. Clear. Hint of compassion. If only a stitch of humor were added...it'd be heavenly. But there was no humor. Just business. He's very direct. I'm learning that about him. Which explains his short hello. Followed by immediately pushing into the news. Being that it was a unanimous consensus. The entire surgical committee feels Trevor is a good candidate. And then p...

it ain't sexy livin' on an island...

Especially when you have to cross bridges to get ANYWHERE. Very LARGE bridges. The crests of which I inevitably get stuck at. Speaking of...why is it that at the tippity tops of our bridges...the railings always open up? To reveal an eagle's eye view of the white capped depths below? I HATE that. And sure enough...in route to Dr. Pedi yesterday...they must have seen me coming cause traffic ground to a halt at the top of the Mt. Hope Bridge. Where I felt less than Hope-ish. My palms gushing my nerves onto the steering wheel for a good 15 (felt like forever) minutes. Not just things medical bring out my cowardly lion. Heights do too! Anyway... Grabbed an iced coffee and chocolate cream filled to settle my nerves on the way. And we arrived on time...in one piece. Of course. Dr. Sick-Visit-Pedi breezed in chart in hand. Glanced down. Then at Trevy. Then said... "He has a history of Infantile Spasms?" Surprise and speculation in her voice. We get that a lot. It...