Posted on May 2, 2016
After too many months, things have just settled onto an even keel with Boodi’s therapies. He has beautiful, passionate and experienced speech and occupational therapists, a weekly play group focusing on his sensory needs and transitions, and hopefully he will soon have one on one weekly swimming lessons. A few other things, like music therapy, Gemiini program and the Kids Must Move program might be in the works. It feels as though things are moving forward in the dance.
Boodi sings along to the alphabet song with me and does puzzles. Last week at the Botancial Gardens in Castlemaine, he reacted to another little boy singing to himself on the swing beside him with sheer joy, turning and trying to get the other child’s attention. Unless you have walked in our shoes, I’m not sure that you can quite understand how huge, how totally beautiful a thing that was to watch.
We learn so much every day. We learn from Boodi, when we stop to watch, and that is exactly what he needs from us. That and our belief in him. We persevere. I wrote this poem in the car on the way back from Castlemaine. It’s a poem to my husband…
Your last tattoo, prophetic
in its symbolism, to hold steady;
the altered joy that can be found in
the resolute placing of one foot
in front of another, a tightrope walk
of trial and error, blindfold folded over
our eyes. Perseverance,
the orange fish that swims
on your left forearm, its blue eye
which I claimed for my own above your index finger.
The Elwood artist finished the work
one afternoon while I was working
in Sydney, and I felt robbed of the first glance. Perseverance
meant something different then, it meant
something to you,
some reminder to hold in perpetuity,
harbouring no clues of future portent.
It’s a talisman now, immovable reminder:
keep steady, keep going, hold strong,
keep the love, watering it with a tenderness of
skin or fish
scales, or other soft things,
a measure of tears notwithstanding.
Linking up today with Essentially Jess for #IBOT