This morning Chai came up to me, beaming, and told me, "Mom, I love your heart. And I love Sparrow's heart, and I love Daddy's heart!" Work was gentle and facebook was dull. I have a new child client who is speech delayed and indiscriminately affectionate. I remember times when I didn't notice that, children seizing my hands or climbing in my lap just felt so good to me. I'm happy to get to know and work with him even though I'm weary of play therapy, I feel so badly for children who are scarred by inconsistency and shame. In the evening the rain cooled the angry earth and when we walked to visit the horses I could smell every plant on the street. We went to the park and I felt like running in the field (not very far because my pelvis is a delicate cage, I can tell it's eager to twist with a little more weight on it) and stood in the clover circles and Chai and Sparrow chased me. I made them crowns of clover and they looked so beautiful in their tangled wild baby hair. I wanted a rich black and white picture. We lay on our backs and watched the gray clouds moving, Sparrow climbed all the way up the ladder apparatus and is fearless on the slide. Chai told me he was Captain Hook and that we had to stay on the ship so he could take our orders (pirate cheeseboogers, pirate tacos). We sang "Pirate mokey, pirate mokey, just for you, just for you," and practiced swinging on the big swings. My friends really are gone, they're not part of my life the way they were. But most of the time, I still feel happy. Chai was explaining to us in the car, "Remember when I was a baby, and I played by the bridge, and you were holding me, and Sparrow was taller than me?...but Baby Tarzan doesn't drink milk because he isn't born yet. He's still in your belly." Do you think it's possible that maybe at least part of it will be nice?
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