Sneaky Little Crayons

Hello Dear Blog Follower,

          I’m delighted to find you on my black pages again.   If you are new to the darkness, welcome!  If you’re one of my avid, rabid readers welcome back and thanks for following the misadventures of the little blind Dude and myself.

                I was recently informed that this little blogging project of mine would get more attention if I personalized it up a bit.  I could do that.  My little boy has a smile that would melt a stone heart.  He’s absolutely adorable and all modesty aside, I’m not too shabby myself.  I have so many pictures of Gabriel over the years.  From incubator to Zombie eye to yesterday, I could fill these pages with color and smiles and give you a better sense of who we are.

                But I won’t do that.

                There are several reasons that influence my decision including (but not limited to) the fact that I value my privacy and by extension my son’s.  The internet will live forever and some of the stories I tell here are deeply personal.  It is so much easier to bare your soul from the shadows, plus in years to come my boy might be completely mortified about the tale of his massive poop in Cali, Columbia. 

More than that, you don’t need to know us that intimately.  This blog is designed to reach a very specific group of people:  the parents of blind children.  It dosen’t matter who we are, what matters is what we do and hopefully the pervasive message in each of these posts is one of hope.  That it’s going to be ok.  That you will make it through the dark, as we do and that you are not alone.

However, there will be dark days.  There will be times that you see children carelessly running, biking, kicking a non-modified ball and the most secret parts of your heart will cry out, in sorrow or frustration or rage. 

I had a moment like that today.  I had a little time this morning and decided to get Gabriel a Valentine gift.  I sashayed myself to the local toy store and made a bee line for the trucks.  Then I had second thoughts.  Last time I counted Gabriel owned no less than 137 wheeled toys and plays with two of them.  So I thought I’d mix it up. 

I got him this weird digital bird thingy that interactively whistles with you.  It looks pretty cool, I think my little guy is going to love it.  There’s a chance that it might be incredibly annoying and might have to go ‘mysteriously missing’ after a spell but I’m not sure yet because it came packaged in what I can only assume is multiple  layers of titanium disguised as plastic and the toy store proprietor was watching me like a hawk.

Clutching my titanium ensconced bird, I took a quick trip around the rest of the store to make sure I wasn’t missing out on a playtime gem and there they were.  The crayons.  The people at Crayola have really stepped up their game.  Bold beautiful colors, soft pastels, neon…it’s visual candy especially for a lover of art such as myself.

The sight of all those art supplies took me down.  Right there, in front of the poster board I completely lost my shit.  It was bad.  Hot tears of regret were silently streaming down my face and for a moment I had absolutely no control of my emotions.  Talk about mortifying.

For a moment I thought I would have to ditch the bird.  I really didn’t think I was going to be able to pull off getting to the register and finishing my transaction.  But then I remembered:  I am from New Jersey.  No Crayon will defeat me.

I dropped down my sunglasses, sucked up my snot, dried my cheeks, hitched up my big-girl pants and paid for my bird.  I even had it gift wrapped.  I boogied out of the store made it to my car and gave myself 5 minutes to cry.  I was done in three, because while my heart may have it’s moments of weakness my head knows the truth: those tears don’t do a single thing.  They will not fix his eyes.  They will not make me stronger or better or enrich my life in any way.  All they will do is allow pity to creep up behind me.

Pity is a nasty creature.  It’s cousin – Compassion, is one of the best qualities a person can have.  Compassion allows you to understand people.  Compassion inspires you to reach out and help someone.  It allows you to experience very human emotions that might not necessarily be your own.  Compassion helps widen your world, it helps you grow.

Pity does not do this.  Be it self-pity or pity for others, it only encourages you to feel sad.  It encourages you to dwell on injustice and the cruelty of the world at large.  Like tears it does nothing.  It must be fought off at all costs.

So I had my three minute crying jag in the parking lot of the strip mall, took several calming deep breaths and drove home.   The funny thing is, I never have those moments when I’m with my Gabriel.  The joyfulness of his spirit buoys mine.  He is the light that gets me through the dark.

I’ve told you all along that it’s going to be ok, and it will.  However, I never promised that it would be easy, because it won’t.  There will be moments of doubt, sadness and the worst pain that you can imagine.  The most important thing is to make sure they are only moments and never allow those negative feelings to color your view of the world. 

I won’t personalize this blog anymore than I have for another reason.  I like keeping you in the dark.  It’s good practice for relating to your kid.