An Eyepatch, a Dog with Sunglasses, and Sunshine by My Side
My son brushed back my hair and examined my eye patch. I put on sunglasses to help hold the mess of a bandage down.
"Mommy doctor," he said and signed at the same time.
"Mommy's O.K.," I said. I hadn't been able to find the scissors, so I'd ripped the tape with my teeth. I didn't look so good, I admit. Something irritated my eye a few days ago, most likely a contact lens. It felt better closed.
I convinced my son to settle into watch a movie with me. Even though it was Sunday morning, what could be more delicious than breaking routine and cuddling? Anyway, it looked like rain. I set the shades on the table as they weren't really helping.
There are many moments we write and talk about all the amazing things our special children do. Then, there are just moments of nothing; normal, boring, warm, delicious times that are parent and child hanging out; of just being nothing special at all.
We sat together, us three, just doing nothing. My eye still hurt; I still looked ridiculous, yet nothing else mattered as long as I had my sunshine by my side.
The dog snuck off with the sunglasses in his mouth. The rain started to fall.
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