This is the Dream.

A dear school friend of mine posted this on facebook today.  When I read it, a bell rang a high pure sound inside me.

“Found a lovely poem today on Poetry. Had to share it. Its called “This Is the Dream,” by Norwegian poet Olav H. Hauge, translated by Robert Bly and Robert Hedin:

This is the dream we carry through the world
that something fantastic will happen
that it has to happen
that time will open by itself
that doors shall open by themselves
that the heart will find itself open
that mountain springs will jump up
that the dream will open by itself
that we one early morning will slip into a harbor
that we have never known.”

I think I’ve found my theme for The Sketchbook Project.

Today.

Today, fifteen years ago, I started a new life.

I married my best friend.

Two days ago, I sat across the table from a dear friend who served me with divorce papers.

Fifteen years ago, I was tearing up the 101, rushing to the Palmer House Bed and Breakfast, cursing as I drove, since I didn’t quite remember how to get there, following my fiance as he wove in and out of traffic, singing loudly.  We were in separate cars, so that we could drive people around over the next day or two.  Before smartphones, before GPS, I had my mental map and him.

We have definitely had a turbulent life together.  But it was a shared life, and a life I thought would get better as we grew together.  It hasn’t been easy.  Things that I thought brought us closer, in hindsight I see actually drove wedges.  He couldn’t cope, and drifted away.

Two days ago, I sat across from my friend, crying as I thought about the years until now.  Everything I had been through, we had been through.  The shared memories, the travels, the laughter, the fights.

The lost babies.

The two miracles that we have helped bring into this world.

Today is my fifteenth wedding anniversary.

And I am starting a new life.

Again.

A day for dreaming.

Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, by Anjali:

“It was about how white people and blackish-brownish people were separated and went to different schools and had separate water fountains and couldn’t play together. And MLK said he wanted to make the world better when he grew up. And then he did. And he had kids. And then people walked around with signs. But this one guy did not agree. Only the one guy. But everyone else did and they ignored him. And then MLK had a dream.”

Little minds. Big knowledge.

Favorites. Anjali, December 2011

Color: Pink
Friend: Lilah “because she’s always funny.  When she got gum, she put it in her mouth, then in her jewelry box!”
Drink: Hot cocoa
Food: blackberries
Dessert: Cupcakes
Toy: Kanani (American Girl doll)
Thing at School: 45 layout (math)
Teacher: Ms. Dina
Animal: Horse; and Zoe (our labradoodle)
Restaurant: Curry Club
Movie Character: Aurora (Sleeping Beauty)
Movie: Rapunzel (Tangled)
Icecream: Mint chocolate chip
Game: Mousetrap
Vacation: Dallas
Season: Summer “because you get to go play in the water.”
Book: Knuffle Bunny.

Favorites. Nik, December 2011.

Color: Blue
Friend: Skylar (“Hard to explain why.  Just a really good friend.”)
Drink: Hot cocoa.
Dessert: Brownies
Food: Chutney sandwich
Toy: Army guys
Thing at school: Math process
Teacher: Ms. Olivia
Animal: Cheetah; and Zoe (our labradoodle)
Restaurant: Chicago Fire
Movie Character: Spiderman
Movie: Cats and Dogs
Icecream: Cookies n Cream
Game: Indiana Jones on xbox
Vacation: Santa Cruz
Season: Winter “because you get to open presents when you’ve been nice.”
Book: “How to be a Super Villian.”

Family.

Nik, while lying in bed with us this morning: “Four hearts together makes a family.”

Mom.

Pete was telling the Nik this morning how he always gets comments from his friends that Nik looks just like him.  The shape of his head, his face, his smile.  Nik said,”Well, you’re my dad.”

So I asked Nik: “Who’s your mom?”
Nik: “You.”
Thinking I’d get a response based on the color of his hair, or his brown skin, I followed up with: “How do you know I’m your mom?”
Nik turned to look at me and said: “Because you take care of me.”

That pretty much sums it up. 

Sand.

I was working on this blog on Sunday morning, and then decided to read a few posts out to the kids.  I thought they would get a kick out of hearing about their lives when they were little.  Nik was sitting right by me and was able to read a few words of each as I scrolled through the posts.  I skipped over the ones that referred to his diagnosis or the ABA therapies, since I am not ready to discuss autism with him yet.

I also skipped a few that I thought would make him sad, but read one out that I thought he could handle, one of him getting picked on by older girls who dumped sand on his head at a birthday party, when he was three, and he let them because he wanted them to play with him.  He was upset when I read it, and asked if we still knew the girls and how old they were.  I explained how they were young then, only a couple years older than him, but they probably wouldn’t do that again if they saw him today.  And that he would never let them get away with it now.  He made a couple of vengeful comments and a face or two, but then seemed to let it go.

Last night, I heard him crying in his room.  When I asked him what was wrong, what was bothering him, he said, “Sand.  Sand on my head.”

Broke my heart all over again.

Swanning around…

Had the melody of Swan Lake floating through my head and couldn’t help but hum it out loud to get it out of my system. Nik raised his eyebrows and went back to eating lunch; Anjali tried to interrupt me by saying, “If I can’t sing, YOU can’t sing!”

Sometimes I just have to ask her to stop, or she’d hum all day long….

Love

Today was a hard day for me.

At one point, I was sitting on the couch, curled up with the pillows, staring blankly at the show on the t.v.  I’m not sure how long I was sitting there.  I could hear the kids playing upstairs, running back and forth, alternating between laughing, yelling, whining, then laughing again.  It all was a blur in my head.

Then the kids came downstairs and I heard plans being made to go out front and play with their dad.  I wasn’t paying attention, and then…

I felt this small hand stroke my arm slowly.  Then it moved up to pat my head, and I turned to see Nik standing there with a small sad smile on his face.

I asked him, “Did you know that I am sad?”

He nodded and gave me a long hug.

And then he was gone.

But that was enough.