DECEMBER 21, 2012.

Some believed the world would end.  For me it almost did.

The phone call froze my life into moments of fear, despair that immobilized my limbs.  I could only sit.  But my stillness was loud with shouts, pleas transmitted from my soul to whatever could hear.

Ian, my three year old grandson, was sick, so sick and getting worse.  Nothing stopped the fever. His pain was so strong it contorted his body 'til he could not move. His chatter, typically constant, ceased.  His silence was broken only by groans. and his screams when examined.

The doctors weren't sure of the cause but they knew surgery would relieve the pressure on his esophagus and reduce the pain.  He spent the night in agony.  His helpless parents stood by unable to offer any consolation or relief. They asked me not to go.  I can understand why.  I would have been no help.

A war waged within me.  Positive thoughts were slain by the negative possibilities.  And the worse seemed possible.

Mega doses of mega medicines were given intravenously.  Mega prayers went out from our friends that know how to pray.

At 5 a.m. Ian fell asleep exhausted.  Surgery was to happen that morning.  But when the doctors examined him again, it was clear something had changed.  The abscess that was causing the trauma to Ian's body was subsiding, shrinking.  The doctors decided to wait.

By early afternoon, everyone involved was perplexed.  The doctors could not understand how/why such a healing was occurring.  The parents were surprised when Ian ate a few crackers.  (He had not eaten in days.)  My husband and I were ecstatic at the news.

**

Christmas happened.  Ian's recovery has been quick.  My family and I enjoyed watching him open presents and play.  

I think about the parents of children who have died and my heart goes out to them.  I wonder how they cope.  

I think about those who argue about the merits of science versus the existence of something beyond our capacity to explain.  And I don't care.  It doesn't matter.  Truth just is.  Let us believe what we want.

I am grateful.  I thank science as well as the unknown for my grandson's recovery.  What is a miracle?

Life has returned to "normal".  I was unable to write until now and I had to write about this.  I'll be visiting blogs, getting back to my attempts at poetry, enjoying the things I like.  I know you would have been supportive, but I was too sad to get on line.  

I hope we all remain healthy - in all the facets that entails.  Hope you enjoyed the holidays, and that your "normal" is really, really good.

Ian with my daughter during a fun pony ride. December 30, 2012

INGRAINED MEMORY

Grandson, at El Paso Zoo

Playing silly games, our laughter tickling

others, infected

with our secret, so secret,

so sacred,

its origin we don’t know,

I forget –

expectations, age, limitations, time

running fast,

I jump

in your eyes, asking for nothing.

You speak a gift,

spontaneous treasure

now buried forever

in  boundless space

within my heart.

"I love you,

grandma."

(Submitted to Flash Friday 55 where G-Man hosts a story in 55 words or less.)

My grandson turns 3 next week.  Recently, on a visit, he spontaneously, tenderly looked at me and uttered those unforgettable words.  How could I not be the happiest, silliest grandma ever?

Little Boy

I leap into your eyes without consent

ashamedly seeking to steal a little
essence flowing free
from fountains of joy
restrained and forgotten by me
dying in grown up norms,
civility's expected requirements.

Your laughter's song serenades
dormant tickles in my soul
awakening and stirring faint
memories in lunatic dances
that pop ruling bubbles of convention.

In your happy presence I wallow
humbly grateful, quizzical for reason
to deserve that you are, treasure
in my life, unexpected gift
beyond known generosity
I cannot match, except to wish
you something so __________
for which no word exists.

************

For Ian, my little grandson, who turns two this week.

(Submitted to DVerse Poets where you're sure to find some fantastic poetry.)