It is raining. I worried I would not sleep last night but a gentle rain commenced after midnight. The sound and scent lulled me. I slept well.
The alarm was set but in the middle of a dream a voice from another dream cried "Mom!" and I woke up, an hour before the alarm went off. I'm on the porch with coffee now, wondering if it is the memory of that child's voice...or the rain...or my excitement...or something else responsible for my tears in the shower and a lingering tenderness in my heart.
In Skype conversation Wednesday with Debbie and Eliane, a warm wash of well-being and welcome washed and caressed me. Looking at their faces, the music of their voices in my ear, something in the earth tones of the walls and furnishings behind them registered like an embrace. I heard myself laughing and marveled: how long has it been since I laughed like this?
R was the last student yesterday. Her mother is a friend here. She came in at the end of the lesson to say goodbye and give me some money for the trip. We exchanged pleasantries (me, fighting tears that had begun when R and I sang "We Shall Overcome" together near the end of her session) and then fell silent. She finally said, "Well, we should go. But we don't want to..." I opened my arms to her and we hugged for a long time. When I released her, there remained some hesitancy in the room. R, with a sweetness I'm coming to recognize as part of the gift of Down's Syndrome, looked at me shyly with so much affection.... "You want a hug, too?" And she smiled and stepped quickly toward me. We've never hugged before. It was a good hug.
The alarm was set but in the middle of a dream a voice from another dream cried "Mom!" and I woke up, an hour before the alarm went off. I'm on the porch with coffee now, wondering if it is the memory of that child's voice...or the rain...or my excitement...or something else responsible for my tears in the shower and a lingering tenderness in my heart.
In Skype conversation Wednesday with Debbie and Eliane, a warm wash of well-being and welcome washed and caressed me. Looking at their faces, the music of their voices in my ear, something in the earth tones of the walls and furnishings behind them registered like an embrace. I heard myself laughing and marveled: how long has it been since I laughed like this?
R was the last student yesterday. Her mother is a friend here. She came in at the end of the lesson to say goodbye and give me some money for the trip. We exchanged pleasantries (me, fighting tears that had begun when R and I sang "We Shall Overcome" together near the end of her session) and then fell silent. She finally said, "Well, we should go. But we don't want to..." I opened my arms to her and we hugged for a long time. When I released her, there remained some hesitancy in the room. R, with a sweetness I'm coming to recognize as part of the gift of Down's Syndrome, looked at me shyly with so much affection.... "You want a hug, too?" And she smiled and stepped quickly toward me. We've never hugged before. It was a good hug.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The daffodils opened overnight. I'm grateful it happened before I left. Their blooming each Spring, is one of the rare delights in my life here.
