Do I take a shower or go to bed? It had been an arduous day and my weary bones screamed sleep. She had been so irritable. I had put my 3-year-old, special needs granddaughter, to bed and I was too exhausted to relish the minutes of freedom staring back at me.
I gazed out my window at the nighttime sky questioning how my life seemed unseen. How hidden from the outside I truly was. Isolation my only companion as my own personal existence is denied a place to flourish. My friendships yanked apart as my inability to socialize at random stresses the relationships. Life in and of itself marches forward without me.
"Sure hope Betty comes tomorrow, I need milk. I need to just breathe," I interrupted, as sleep pushed its way into my thoughts. My world is confined and about sacrifices. It is loneliness at its best. It is watching my own identity being erased as I pour my spirit into her care, as I cheer her on. The need for structure critical. My "fun" choices and outings based on the availability of little others who help.
My ears shriek with echoes of exhausting explanations bouncing back with words of criticism and ignorance.
As my mind shuts down I fight to remember that God has entrusted me with this child’s story. He deemed me worthy of the task.
“Thank you for this arduous day,” I silently whisper as all goes dark.
“What? Morning already? And the story continues.”
Dixie Lee Green
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