i really can't describe it
as any more than
sad and disappointing--
that inevitable day
when you have to realize
that your sweet, innocent, beloved child's
is not as perfect as they announced to you it was
the day you gave it life
and it was lain upon your breast
all warm and swaddled.
it's the moment you pray for all nine months,
that that little thing
will just be healthy.
and even after it is,
that prayer remains with you
day in and day out
because heaven knows anything can happen
to these mortal bodies, even the little tiny ones.
the day we found out
she had a lazy eye
during a routine pre-school checkup--
one of those big blue
perfectly straight and
seemingly perfectly able crystal balls--
we were jaw-droppingly flabbergasted.
how is it possible?
how were we in the dark this whole time?
and we ran home
and googled amblyopia for days,
reading about what it meant
and what could be done,
just like all parents in similar situations do.
of course we were calmed a bit
to learn how common it is
and how treatable, at least at her age.
and also by milla's telling us,
"i get to get glasses?
это моя мечта!"
(i've dreamed of this!)
and that phrase that alex's father once spoke
rang through my head:
"let us hope that this will be the worst
we will have to face,"
which always reminds me
to keep things in perspective.
and when we went glasses shopping,
she said she only wanted glasses
like his glasses--
those tiny rectangular reading glasses
he pulls out and sticks on the end of his nose--
and i think they look great.
even when her chef hat
from french culinary day at school is upside down.
and speaking of france. . .