Filter Part II

Rob writes about his daughter. Bringing me to my knees. Go read it tonight.

You can fight and argue and damn the gods. It wont help. You can hope for the lottery, wish for better things wont fix these babies brains. Lay awake at night and wonder why and how where is this all going? No answers just questions questions questions and more questions.

Today Joseph is stiff and tired. Melting like a flower you can see it. My mother saw it. His teachers saw it. He's three and he's stiff like and tight it fatigues him. The heat make it worse. I sigh and scoop him up. He's three I can scoop him up and kiss his checks and rub his head. What will I do when he's 14 or 20 and tired and melting. I will not be able to scoop him up.

He's frustrated. He talk's to me, he signs to me "I forgot" he signs "sorry" and I dont know why?
My tears.

With headphones on he can live in his own world. He can tell them to go away. He wont have to talk to them. That is not my Joseph. Is this their Joseph? It comfort's him. There is no comfort for me. This world is big enough for him. It wont always understand him and I dont want him to go put his headphones on and say forget you I want him to scream and yell LISTEN to me. TRY to understand me.
I want to hit and punch and scream, I want to howl. It wont make it better, it wont make it go away. Might not even help me feel better really. So I write and I write and scoop him up while I still can.