After he came home from his workout, I had him watch the play. “Yep.” He said with surety. “I remember grabbing a heating pad at halftime- to keep those muscles from tightening up.”
So-I was holding on to the slight chance that the five inch tumor in my son’s leg was the result of a fractured femur, and not a cancerous mass. Over the next few days, I thought less about his possible injury and more about the likelihood that it was cancer. I thought about the impact this may have on Y and J. As I drove home from some errands that afternoon, I attempted to drown out my thoughts with some loud music. Unfortunately, I started thinking louder ;)” (To be continued)
One of my thoughts centered around my conflicted ideas of whom to communicate with. B had only told a few close friends. We hadn’t told J much of anything, but as B missed more and more school with the heavy schedule of tests, I reached out to the high school principal and one of his assistants. The assistant principal resolved all my concerns with B’s attendance and keeping this confidential. The principal, I knew would directly look out for Y.
Y has always peacefully walked in his brother’s shadow. His brother has always loved and respected him and so it’s been a safe place to walk. Y’s not one to be out spoken. Effort is required to unlock him- at least more so than with B. My concern was that he would become lost in the physical, mental, and emotional efforts toward his brother. I needed someone who would have Y’s back, and would look out for him.
A few months ago, Y had done a small favor for a friend of mine. Unexpectedly one evening as Y was pounding out the last of his homework problems, the doorbell rang. My friend delivered a plate of Y’s favorite cookies- still warm from the oven.
½ cup softened butter
½ cup Butter-flavored Crisco
2 ¾ cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. cream of tartar
¼ tsp. salt
Cream sugar with butter and Crisco. Stir in eggs, then dry ingredients. Roll in cinnamon sugar mixture (2 Tablespoons sugar mixed with 2 teaspoons cinnamon). Bake at 375 degrees 7-10 minutes.
Sometimes the things I make or bake communicate for me. Y feels a little extra grateful when I say “I love you” by making one of his favorites.
I’m sure you see how grateful I am that others appreciate him too, or look out for him when my focus is demanded in a different direction.