Thursday, January 8, 2009
Sophie is having some dark days. And I'm never sure whether to just trudge on in this blog, doing my writing, sparking the rest of it (because the blog is fertilizer) or let things lie low. Not complain, not notice, not reveal. In revealing, though, I can ask. I can ask the page, the universe, you, the reader, to think hard or think soft but think about Sophie and her energy and what she goes through day after day after day. I ask you to pray if you pray and meditate if you meditate and if you're not into any of that, then think a good thought for her.
Last night my valiant babysitter and I had to work together to get Sophie out of the bathtub while she was seizing. It was simply awful, and when we finally got her to the floor and wrapped her in towels and then carried her back to her bedroom, even the babysitter started to cry. Have I told you how my babysitters help me to live? I would never even call them angels because that would trivialize what they do for Sophie and for me and my husband and my boys. Their devotion to Sophie gives me hope, hope that the world is a good and beautiful place that can afford such mercy and hope that Sophie's place in it is powerful.
You might not know who Sophie is, other than a girl who has refractory epilepsy. But you can read about her here, and I will remind you that she is beautiful, has curly hair and a fleeting smile. Her hands are ethereal and light and she reaches to touch your face if she loves you and turns her back if she doesn't. She loves music and swings and trees and being outdoors. She sits cross-legged like a yogi and hums.
Today, we lay under the yellow tree in the front yard and looked up through the web of leaves. The ground was cool and damp but covered in yellow, too.
After taking some pictures, we left for the dentist. When the hygienist opened Sophie's mouth to clean her teeth, we saw a long yellow, serrated leaf lying on her tongue, a stripe of mellow fire.
How wonderful yellow is. It stands for the sun. -Vincent Van Gogh