I looked at him and saw those red red cheeks. The whites of his eyes, red. His little body shaking while soft whimpers escaped from his dry lips. I slid behind him on the couch, wrapped him in my arms and kissed the spot on his skull that was pulsating wildly from the fever--the spot he's supposed to have surgery on this year.
It has been a long time since one of my little loves has been this sick. I almost forgot how we try to take good care of fevers here, but then I had him in my arms and it all came rushing back. A rotating mix of crushed ice with a splash of orange juice and a straw, dainty cups of warm lemon-mint tea, whole grain noodles tossed in a pat of butter only, endless doses of Mama. He is old enough now to ask, why am I feeling like this? Old enough to plea, please, make it go away.
Grey closed in on us, snow blew. Two days and we did not step foot outside except for a trip to the doctor's office. Theo and Sully on each other's last nerve, mine too.
All I can think about is sunshine, warmth. I feel deeply ready to move along, past the snow and dirty slush. Rain and thunder sound delightful. Open windows and birdsong, please.
I went out for a short while today and came home with daffodils and lemons. Theo is perking back up. And right before my eyes were buds, beautiful velvety brown buds on the pear trees. Soon, I tell myself.
:: a little note for those of you who are newer to this space--theo had surgery at ten months old for a condition called craniosynostosis, in which a large portion of his skull was removed. he's healed wonderfully except for a bit of bone-about the size of a quarter-that did not fill in and is very close to the cranial nerve which causes a visible pulsating on the top of his head . most likely he will have a mesh titanium plate put in this year. ::
