I lost it today. It had nothing to do with Bethany, nothing to do with family or with unmet expectations - I just simply came unglued. An hour or so later I went for my usual noon time run and about half way through , it just sort of washed over me in one great wave.
I think it came from weeks of "copy/paste" solutions at work. So many of my coworkers are looking to complete assignments and rather than putting original thought into the equation they rely on copy/paste. Do what the competition does, take what someone else did, copy their formula, change your formatting, insert your data and "voila", instant check mark in the box for completed status.
My though, my work, our life has no copy/paste option. Each interaction, each situation and question has no pre-thought solutions. We're the family that has to leave the local WalMart because our daughter is "unsettling the customers" there. WalMart for Pete's sake - the store that has a website devoted to the bizarre nature of its patrons and WE are unsettling THEM!
Perhaps I'm just a bit envious, I'd like to just come home and have an evening without attendants, diapers, pills, screaming and "unnoticed" turds in the tub. As much as I love my workshop, I hate going there out of intentional avoidance. I hate locking the door so B can't get to me, I hate hiding from my wife, my sons...even more - I hate the guilt I accrue for doing it.
Now, for the first time in over five years, I'm going away with Sherry and the boys. We fenagled a few days away and figured our combined futures will likely preclude us ever doing something as small and intimate as a family vacation again. We managed coverages for Bethany both day and night time, booked flights and headed south.
Of course, the first thing we do on the first morning of our first vacation in five years is to stare blankly at each other hoping someone would lead. In making all the arrangements, it never really dawned on us to consider what we might do once we actually got here.
It took us a few tries and a good bit of time but we finally managed to find our way down to the pool. Ahhh, a few minutes in the warm humid sunshine and the concerns of originality of thought, work issues, broken lamps, torn diapers, tantrums and wet bedding melt away like the grey clumps of parking lot snow in May. The thought of hiding from our issues, from the rolled back eyes of a "petit mal" seizure or of feeble and needy minds - seems distant and removed.
And yet a casual glance across the pool deck, somewhat removed from the hype of laughing children, under-dressed and slightly overweight moms, and pasty white dads; sits a young boy alone at the edge of the pool. Around him is collected a small army of action figures, each one lovingly attended to with stubby fingers. He plays alone quietly in the delightful dappled sunlight - he looks my way and I see the broad smile, somewhat elliptical eyes and recognize immediately why he's alone and why his day is so special.
In another overwhelming realization, the tears again begin to flow down my cheeks but this time not in sorrow.