Speak José! Speak!
I could see his mouth exercising, moving with so much power!
Speak!
Walk!
Walk Leslie! Walk!
Walk Leslie! Walk!
I held her arms with my hands under her shoulders, while her feet stepped.
Walk!
Swallow!
Swallow Tati! Swallow!
As she came charging at me, I wiped her mouth with her bib, hugging.
Swallow!
I do so want to witness José’s first words. Sitting with him this morning, I would not relent, telling him, “Hola!” trying to show him how words were coming from my throat. I encouraged him to use his voice, pronouncing every word strongly, envisioning a breakthrough.
Prior to that I was helping little Leslie walk around the yard, up the wooden clubhouse ramp, over to the little wooden playhouse, and even down the slide covered in water droplets. I had a small desire to be a physical therapist in these moments.
With bravery, they move and try. Leslie quietly insisted she walk, happily stepping slowly and crookedly. José laughs instead of speaks and laughs the more that he tries, getting up and hobbling around the playground and inside the house. His fingers are bent and have calluses from him chewing on them instead of talking. But then I look at my bitten and destroyed nails and can hardly throw a stone at him.
It’s amazing to watch them try so much and so elegantly, without tears or anger, but with unassuming grace and having such a casual way about them. They’re becoming my favorite ones to see and work with, they’re smiles seem deeper knowing their disabilities.
The Tías show the same grace with the children, guiding them with understanding instruction and always telling the children how beautiful they are and how wonderful they’re doing. Words and support can grow such talented and intelligent children, despite the abilities they may not have been born with or the parents who have left them to themselves.
As Tati comes charging towards me, mouth hanging open, saliva dripping down in one long thin glob, I think,
Hug!
Hug, Sarah! Hug!
But it’s really not that hard to give hugs to kids with such wonderful smiles.
Walk!
Swallow!
Swallow Tati! Swallow!
As she came charging at me, I wiped her mouth with her bib, hugging.
Swallow!
I do so want to witness José’s first words. Sitting with him this morning, I would not relent, telling him, “Hola!” trying to show him how words were coming from my throat. I encouraged him to use his voice, pronouncing every word strongly, envisioning a breakthrough.
Prior to that I was helping little Leslie walk around the yard, up the wooden clubhouse ramp, over to the little wooden playhouse, and even down the slide covered in water droplets. I had a small desire to be a physical therapist in these moments.
With bravery, they move and try. Leslie quietly insisted she walk, happily stepping slowly and crookedly. José laughs instead of speaks and laughs the more that he tries, getting up and hobbling around the playground and inside the house. His fingers are bent and have calluses from him chewing on them instead of talking. But then I look at my bitten and destroyed nails and can hardly throw a stone at him.
It’s amazing to watch them try so much and so elegantly, without tears or anger, but with unassuming grace and having such a casual way about them. They’re becoming my favorite ones to see and work with, they’re smiles seem deeper knowing their disabilities.
The Tías show the same grace with the children, guiding them with understanding instruction and always telling the children how beautiful they are and how wonderful they’re doing. Words and support can grow such talented and intelligent children, despite the abilities they may not have been born with or the parents who have left them to themselves.
As Tati comes charging towards me, mouth hanging open, saliva dripping down in one long thin glob, I think,
Hug!
Hug, Sarah! Hug!
But it’s really not that hard to give hugs to kids with such wonderful smiles.
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