A Break in the Clouds

There seems to be some room for sunshine lately -- both figuratively and literally. The heavy rains of April and May have lightened up, turning everything a dreamy green and making the roses pop with rich reds and creamy yellows. The dogwood, lilac and magnolias are heavy with flowers, spilling over fences, tumbling down branches.

And Sean has gotten better, too. His meltdowns riddled with anxiety have lessened and he is sleeping more, pillow scooped in arms, covers kicked to the floor, breathing steadily in and out.

I’m afraid to talk too much about it. Afraid that I will jinx it and Sean will fall back into the hour long crying jags or inconsolable meltdowns or the anxiety that keeps him imprisoned. But it has been ten days now of a happier child.

I am not only happy for us -- my husband, older son and me but I am happy for Sean. He was struggling so hard in thick of it. The littlest noise or sudden surprise or unhappy moment would send him into a tailspin. He doesn’t want to be like that. No child wants to feel like that. And all we could do is survive. Keep our patience and strength and love for him constant, even during the days when it felt like we could give no more.

The notes from school have gotten better, too. He’s not perfect but he is doing better. And for now, we have to accept that and remember how much better it is this week than a week and a half ago.

It’s also a reminder that we take this life one day at a time. We vow to experience it, under no set conditions, and we trust that we will do our best to make the most of it. A child like Sean reminds me everyday of this -- to take each day generously, to hold onto it in my heart and to always hope for sunshine, even a peek during the cloudiest days. And if the sun doesn’t budge behind a curtain of clouds then let me remember to bring my umbrella in case it pours!