day twelve/
excerpt from Joe Blair's "By the Iowa Sea"
Tuberous sclerosis, likewise, exists. It is what it is.
The above two sentences were very easy to write. And they can be nothing but true. There is no argument that would convince anyone otherwise.
Mike exists. And he is who he is.
But who he will be cannot be quantified by numbers. The future is up for grabs. And what we believe in; what we pray for; what we hope for has the power to change it.
I believe a lot of things. I could write one of those self-important essays for NPR about what I believe. I believe, for example, that my son, Mike, understands much more than he lets on. I believe he understands exactly what I'm saying when I talk to him. And I believe he has an idea of who he is and how is perceived in the world as much as any of us do. I believe he suffers because of his limitations. I believe his feelings are hurt when he gets shouted at for doing things he can't help but do. I believe he is afraid at times. And happy at times. And I believe he is capable of love. I have faith that these things are true. In other words, I believe them to be true. Proof not withstanding. This is how love works. It's belief that brings love into being. As if from thin air. Belief. An ethereal notion. An idea that has the power to create and destroy. We need it, this belief. This prayer. This hope. So that, in time, when the future is worn away by the present, the past might show that we have held up some kind of light, however dim, in the darkness of the world"
This encapsulates what I attempted to write for a year. Joe Blair's memoir is quite amazing, probably the best book I've read this year. I'm 33% through (according to Kindle) and plan to finish most of it this weekend.
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