Slipstream

Things neurological run together and when Sophie flings herself forward and sideways, always to the right and sometimes to the left, banging her head sometimes and jerking it's not a seizure but a seeking of sensation and some people think that I'm strong that I'm amazing, actually, when, actually, I'm not not at all but rather frustrated as any mother might be whose toddler, perhaps, has thrown one too many tantrums that day so she raises her voice sharply knowing that that's no good and yells stop it knowing that the child, in my case, the teenager, my Sophie is innocent and not so innocent because she stops responds to the voice the tone and looks straight at my eyes in the rear view mirror so I know she knows but her humming, too, the loud humming which might be an attempt to communicate or might be the brain rebelling against the wean of Keppra or perhaps the adding of the Vimpat (the drugs, the drugs!) so even if the seizures are dimmed and slowed and disappearing there is something residual enough to make what I imagine is a tingling hum in her head but the hum in my ears and then my head drives me crazy enough to crank up the music to drown her out and myself my eyes are dry but my heart is jumping and in this case it's only Van Morrison wailing Sweet Thing that calms me down. And I will stroll the merry way And jump the hedges first And I will drink the clear Clean water for to quench my thirst And I shall watch the ferry-boats And they'll get high On a bluer ocean Against tomorrow's sky And I will never grow so old again And I will walk and talk In gardens all wet with rain Oh sweet thing, sweet thing My, my, my, my sweet thing. An old man jogs by with knee-socks and the song changes to I may go crazy before I see that mansion on the hill but for a moment, there, I was myself.