The Worst Part? The Best Part?

The earlier photos of Callie are a walk down a dark memory lane. Rivers of tears fill my hands at the near thought that his face held a snap shot of uncertainty. His composure seemingly depicted a dashing appearance when in actuality it camouflaged the blank stares and empty smiles that obviously had a story to tell. The piercing pain of it all was I didn’t know how to reach him. I saw him every day but somehow was oblivious to his whereabouts. Before me was a boy’s future leading to nowhere familiar and the “why” flew aimlessly with no destination in sight.  And the worst part? He didn’t seem to mind. I had longed for the morning dew and the brightness of the day to be breath that filled his temple but that wish was floating alongside the “why” & the “what”.  Over time though, hope crept in singing a lullaby and my head hit the pillow of prayers & dreams. . . .only to be awakened to this astounding assurance that my prayers & dreams have started dialogue with reality. Our days have been needless to say overwhelming. Progress often takes a stroll and our sunsets rain of worry, but one of life’s miracles is gleaming from ear to ear. His eyes tells an updated story from the previous but so does his voice that seemed to have taken a lengthy sabbatical even before it began. And his smile – still not sure of the future but no fear. . . .and maybe no answers for some things but he is riding without a care in the world. . . .and the best part? He’s happy…and so am I.
 
 
Thanks for listening,
 
Portia
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