Everyone in my office felt it, even way up here in Albany, NY. I thought of Jonah and wondered if he was feeling it too – the wavy, hula-hoop, on-a-boat feeling I’d never felt so strongly before, not ever having been a California girl. They’re already selling t-shirts about it. One picture I saw depicted the D.C. “earthquake devastation” – that one made me laugh out loud.
Yesterday was also Andy’s birthday. I made him a photo frame set with a bunch of pictures of he and Jonah. He’s moved down to an apartment in Rhinebeck already; yesterday I called a bank and locked in a 3.5% interest refinance on a mortgage so I can keep the house and give Andy his share. I am glad, and a little jealous, that he is so close to Boo.
My mom and I and Andy are all going to go to Jonah’s school on Saturday and visit him for the first time since he was admitted on the 16th. I hope it goes okay and he doesn’t want to come home with us. Either Andy or I call every day to ask questions about how he’s doing. If he’s crying for daddy or mama they do not tell me, and I don’t ask. They generally tell me about aggressions, if there were any (yesterday he had none at all) and what he ate, and how he ate, and what he did.
Most of the direct care workers sound almost nonchalant when they tell me about his day, which is both comforting and unsettling. I guess he is blending in well and yesterday I even asked “do you guys like him?” They say yes, we do – he’s a great little boy. I want so much for them to like him, hug him, teach him, nurture him. I want warmer weather so he can swim, diving deep to undulate along at the bottom of the pool like he does so expertly. I want them to cover his face in kisses, chase him on the playground, play music for him, and put lots of bubbles in his bath. I want them to grow to love him.
There are no new pictures today so I’ll dig into his babyhood to post two cute ones:
Pissed off Boo
Everything remains surreal. I am, for all intents and purposes, abruptly unmarried and childless. I know I am still Jonah’s mother but no longer am I involved in his daily care at all. It takes an enormous amount of trust to remain calm and collected about the placement of his little body, mind, and soul to a group of strangers, albeit professionals in the field of autism. I trust and hope and believe this is right, this is the right thing, he will get better there, he will thrive.
There are no atheists in foxholes, and this is mine. Not that I was an atheist before, but I’m sure praying more and calling on my peeps gone before me – all those hawks and deer, my grandparents, God, Mary, “and all the angels and saints,” as we Catholics say, to watch over Boo and keep him safe and happy.