(First we want to find these - I didn’t know the word for “edges” so I pointed to them)
Uno esquina… dos equinas… tres… y donde esta cuatro?
(One corner… 2 corners… three…. and where is the four? That's the word for corner on the street... don't know if it's the same for puzzles...)
Y segunda, ponga esos partes aquí…
(And second, put these parts here… meanwhile, I’m pointed to edges that I’ve assembled)
¡Mira Leslie! ¡Mira! ¡Están juntos!
(Look Leslie! Look! They’re together! I say excitedly as I have assembled various pieces of the puzzle. Leslie is the adorable little girl in the first picture on this blog.)
Y después, queremos poner esos partes juntos…
(And after, we want to put these parts together… I didn’t know the Word for “piece” so I used “part” instead...)
¡Mira Leslie! ¡Qué Perfecto!
(Look Leslie! Perfect!... I proclaim my excitement for having assembled the whole puzzle together.)
“Otra Vez!” says Leslie. (Again!)
That is an example of my broken Spanish as Leslie and I completed a puzzle together this morning.
“Tía y yo estamos trabajando.” Leslie told the other Tía.
That is an example of my broken Spanish as Leslie and I completed a puzzle together this morning.
“Tía y yo estamos trabajando.” Leslie told the other Tía.
(Tía and I are working… I am referred to as “Tía” just like they’re caretakers.)
"Acá.... acá, Tía….” said Leslie.
Acá means “there”, usually used with verbs of movement (“Lo ponga acá” – put it there!). Leslie was sitting in her seat that holds her legs in place. Her legs are small since they don’t get much use and her voice is lighter than a feather. She wanted me to move her closer to the table.
“Tía… tía… vamos afuera…” she says. (Tía, let’s go outside.)
“Quieres caminar?” I ask her. (Do you want to walk?)
“Sí, sí tía…” she smiles. (Yes, Tía)
A softness surrounds Leslie’s face, muffling any kind of frustration that may accompany her handicap. I would love to magically allow this one child to walk.
This would be my own miracle…
“Levante te y camina!” I said. (Stand up and walk!)
Leslie smiled, knowing what was happening in her bones. In that moment, earthly science was pushed aside and a miracle took place inside her joints. With vigor, she lifted her head erect, her back straightened and her thighs positioned themselves over her knees. Slowly they lifted her knees which commanded her calves to follow and her feet moved upward, over, and down, one at a time. She slowly realized what was happening and began to understand that she could in fact run towards the outdoors. More quickly she began to step into a jog and then a run, as she darted around the entire yard, between the play house, the swings, and the baby trampoline. She hadn’t understood how running felt before, and now she knew. It was as awesome as she had thought.
That is what I would hope for Leslie.
Come on, God… just one little miracle… just one…
"Acá.... acá, Tía….” said Leslie.
Acá means “there”, usually used with verbs of movement (“Lo ponga acá” – put it there!). Leslie was sitting in her seat that holds her legs in place. Her legs are small since they don’t get much use and her voice is lighter than a feather. She wanted me to move her closer to the table.
“Tía… tía… vamos afuera…” she says. (Tía, let’s go outside.)
“Quieres caminar?” I ask her. (Do you want to walk?)
“Sí, sí tía…” she smiles. (Yes, Tía)
A softness surrounds Leslie’s face, muffling any kind of frustration that may accompany her handicap. I would love to magically allow this one child to walk.
This would be my own miracle…
“Levante te y camina!” I said. (Stand up and walk!)
Leslie smiled, knowing what was happening in her bones. In that moment, earthly science was pushed aside and a miracle took place inside her joints. With vigor, she lifted her head erect, her back straightened and her thighs positioned themselves over her knees. Slowly they lifted her knees which commanded her calves to follow and her feet moved upward, over, and down, one at a time. She slowly realized what was happening and began to understand that she could in fact run towards the outdoors. More quickly she began to step into a jog and then a run, as she darted around the entire yard, between the play house, the swings, and the baby trampoline. She hadn’t understood how running felt before, and now she knew. It was as awesome as she had thought.
That is what I would hope for Leslie.
Come on, God… just one little miracle… just one…
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