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“The bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mooun—taaain…and what do you think he saw?”  ~ Children’s song

I’m the mama over the mountain.  And I can’t help but feel bad for enjoying the view.  If I keep speaking in riddle and metaphor, maybe I won’t have to admit there is freedom and a calm happiness to my life now, and I like that.  I’m going to visit Jonah again with my dad this Sunday, but I skipped visiting him last weekend.

Instead I unpacked boxes from the apartment, did loads of laundry, watched tree surgeons cut up the giant maple killed by Irene, and visited my friend D at dialysis.  I watched Almanzo and Jack get along unbelievably nicely:

Jack’s such a big lummox his ball toy is a basketball:

And Almanzo loves to squeeze himself into boxes he’s a bit too big for:

(Andy will appreciate that, if he reads this.  Put the cat in the box…)

I did normal people things, got a lot accomplished, and felt as good as if I’d rested for a long, long time.

I really miss Jonah.  I was okay with skipping one weekend.

Are those things mutually exclusive?

Either Andy or I call every night to hear how he’s doing.  Lately he’s been aggressive, but they sound like they expect it and it’s nothing they can’t handle.  They like him, even, I think.  They think he’s bright. 

He’s funny, his teacher e-mailed me.  He’s such a pleasure to have in the classroom.  I don’t even care if she doesn’t mean it.  To picture him laughing and learning is wonderful.  I want to know he is happy and not hurting others.  And I’m looking forward to seeing him again; I’ll bring a picnic lunch for Sunday afternoon and hopefully it’ll be dry enough to swing and climb on the playground.

My father wants me to help guide how often he goes to see Jonah, at least for now.  He’s concerned, maybe even over-concerned, about whether his visiting will impede Jonah’s acclimation to Anderson.   My mother, on the other hand, is different about Jonah.  Every ounce of her wants to be with him, as much as possible, all day if she could.  She’s more of the just try and keep me away from my precious grandson type.

The fact that Andy lives five minutes away is key to everyone’s comfort level about this whole thing.  His presence in the same town is more appreciated than he probably knows.

Sometimes I feel guilty because I dare enjoy this new life where I’m not attacked every time I see my son.  I’m the mama over the mountain.  Selfish, maybe.  Surreal, definitely. 

And what do you think she saw? 

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