and I am a crier. Growing up, my mother always said I was sensitive, or more accurately, too sensitive. Regardless, I cry. A lot.
Sometimes I cry about myself. More often though, I cry about almost anything, and anyone else. Most times, my cries are a lot like an alcoholics swig from a bottle of liquor, long and hard. I sometimes wish that I wasn't "too sensitive." Sometimes I wonder what all the tears add up to. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate crying, honestly I can enjoy a good hard cry. Which, I think contributes to the answer. Crying for me is like a long expected rain in a dry summer. It refreshes me, it feeds me, to be better, to do better, and to be what Gandhi called, "the change that I want to see in the world."
I woke up this morning and not 45 minutes later I was in tears. It all started much like many of our mornings start, with Arturo, slowly, sllllllowly getting ready for school. My sweet Arturo, my boy who came to me so young, just 20 months old, and already changed for life from abuse. My sweet Arturo who has, so slowly, grown from a frightened, angry, non-communicative baby into a sweet, loving, inspirational example of resiliency. Mind you, now, almost five, still with so much catching up to do, he teaches me so much more than I even realize.
So, as I said, like many mornings, Arturo was getting ready for school, but more accurately, pestering his older two brothers. I could hear it from my room, the bickering back and forth. "Arturo, your supposed to wear this," and then his, "no, I'm wearing this." Then me, frustration. "Arturo, come here." The lecture already formed inside my head. As he rounded the corner into my doorway, his small expectant face peered up into mine, and my heart melted. Still dressed in mismatched pajamas (almost 45 minutes after getting up) my boy looked at me with eyes full of expectation. "Come give me a hug." I say. His body curled up into mine (no tears yet) I began kissing his face all over. "Mommy!!"
"I could kiss you all day." I could. I was sad as he squirmed away, expecting him to run off, and the day to continue on its way. Instead, he crawled up next to his still sleeping sister (yeah, sleeping in my bed) and began slowly, gently rubbing her back, waking her (still no tears, amazing). Aaliyah, typically wakes up cranky, but today, instead, she woke up and gave Arturo the biggest hug. And, as my boy, sat, hugging his little sister, and facing me he said, "Mommy, I can see myself in your eyes."
No, baby. I see myself through your eyes.
(Tears)
You. You are why I have faith in Gods will, and not government bureaucracy.
