When I’m running errands, sorting through bills, or trying to remain present while playing with my son in grass and gravel, I wonder. I wonder about the what if’s and about the lives I am not living because I mostly live only this one.
I wonder about the people I’ve walked away from, and about those who walked away from me. I wonder why some of them remain of me while others are blurry and nameless when once, they felt like everything. Or, at least something. I wonder about the lives I’d live if the word “if” became the word “is.”
I wonder whether a more perfect version of myself – the me that lives between perpetually fresh sheets, a toilet without little-boy pee on the rim, and who doesn’t forget what day it is – is real, somewhere, out there. Whether a version of myself, doing all of it better and more efficiently exists and needs to be realized through meditation or more sleep. I wonder if she’s trapped inside of my mind noise, simply needing more quiet in order to be. I wonder how to find more quiet and I wonder whether I really want more quiet.
While wondering, I see the things that I believe.
I believe in getting mud under my nails and in my rings while digging with my son in the yard, looking for worms. I believe in being present, although I am not always very good at it.
I believe in special education teachers and that my son’s Preschool Autism Classroom, and his Mrs. M, unlocked his words. I believe in Early Intervention, a mom’s intuition, and in the power of wishes and work and whimsy.
I wonder about life after death and am terrified of it not existing. I believe that it does, in some way, because I must. I wonder whether I’d be able to breathe if I knew for sure that there’s no Next.
I wonder about whether it was, in some ways, easier on my son when he was less aware. When his world was more centered in and on himself. Before he was exposed to and was able to absorb little kids telling him that he needs speech school, and that he talks weird. He’s at the between age when he still thinks a doctor’s visit might fix his “broken” words.
I wonder what he thinks and feels when he tells me that his mouth is broken because his “L” sound is, and I wonder whether once he gets “L,” he’ll realize that it’s not just the “L” sound that is “broken.”
I wonder at the words I might use to help him see his perfectness, when I know that it’s so much more easy to believe that we’re broken. I wish that I had the words and the hands and the power to make my little boy realize that who he is is him, and that he’s everything, and that while his communication matters, it matters because of his interactions and his impact. His communications matter because his love does. Communicating, in whatever way we each are able to, is about connection, sharing what we want, getting our needs met, and about love.
This video, from when Tucker was younger… it’s communication. And he had very few words, then.
I wonder what I would have said had I been a part of the conversation rather than just hearing bits of it between a work call and walking behind two moms on the way home from the school bus stop. One implied that another mom had given up on a boy who has behavioral issues and possibly autism. I wonder how I can find the mom in this neighborhood that they were talking about. I want to help her.
I wonder whether I’m doing enough to help Tucker know that he has the power to change the world. I wonder how to help myself know the same.
I wonder about the power of words, but not in the way I wonder about other things. I wonder at their power because I believe in it. I believe in sharing our stories and our journeys and our successes and our failures and I believe in community and the ability to change somebody’s life by changing a moment.
I believe that each of us has the power to do something in the next 10 minutes that will make somebody smile. Feel less alone. Have a different view on tomorrow. I wonder at the power of each of us doing so.
This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post, where writers and bloggers gather to share their unique takes on a particular sentence. This week’s is “I wonder…”
Your hosts: Me (Kristi from Finding Ninee) and
Co-hosts: Kerri from Diagnosed and Still Okay (this week’s sentence thinker-upper) and Jill from Ripped Jeans and Bifocals.