Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Nine years ago.
In some ways, it seems so much longer.
In some ways, it seems like yesterday.
In some ways, I am saddened that we are not further along...
In some ways, we are already so much further than I thought we'd be...
Nine years ago. Tonight. The sky shifted. Ever so slightly.
You know how you look up at the sky in a city at the stars? You only see a few of the brightest stars, and they are very far away. When you look up at the stars in a suburban area, you see quite a few more stars, but they are still very far away. When you are in a rural area, the stars shift to almost wrap around you. They are mind-numbing in their numbers. When you go to the ultimate in, say, North Dakota or Montana (think middle of nowhere!), the stars shift somehow in depth. Not only do the numbers go up yet again, but there are levels of stars. There are a few that are so close you could literally pluck them from your hair. There are some that are so very far away, that you realize your own insignificance. Distance becomes almost an inconsequential word...you wonder if they are bumping God's elbows...Your heart swells in the very beauty and magnitude of them.
I've murmured about Brushfield Spots before. They are one of the defining characteristics of Down Syndrome. Elise's are beautiful. When she was little, I referred to them as "stars in her eyes". They fill her irises. There are big ones and tiny ones. They sparkle. They dance. They ground me. They inspire me. They are stars in the fullest sense of the idea.
When Elise was born, my sky shifted. A few stars were captured in her glowing eyes. They measure life. They give depth to the simple. They give distance to the oppression of fear. They give radiance to the unexpected. They glimmer with joy and love. They shimmer with delight. These stars have captured me. These stars have set me free.
Happy Birthday, Elise! I love you! Thank you for sharing your stars!