Mon petit soleil

There are moments, more and more of them lately, when the darkness seems almost omnipresent. My head knows, logically that this is at the very least, being exacerbated by the Prednisone.  My soul doesn't care.  It rolls in like a storm, a swirling mass of black and grey; a bleakness I've not felt since..well, since then. Back when it was all black and red and hopeless.

There are moments of red still, though not as many.  A fair bit of black, when i just want to world to end, or my pathetic role in it, at least.  But most of the time, it is the ubiquitous grey that swallows me up and threatens to simply leave me a shell of who I once was.  I think perhaps it is the grey I fear most. It is so...nothing. It makes me feel like nothing. Noone. Like maybe nothing good can ever happen again.  Like there is nothing about me that is good anymore.

Except.  There is Sam.  My littlest love, my last baby. He is an entirely different child than he was last time.  Hell, he's an entirely different child to who he was just a month ago.  I've no idea what happened, but it is as though someone flicked a switch in his cheeky 3 year old mind, and lit him up.  

He lights me, this baby of mine.  Warms me from the inside, like my own little sun.  Forces me to step out from the shadows, eyes blinking as they adjust to his light.  Feeling his warmth spread across my face, onto my skin, into my heart. So full of life, of laughter.  From almost non-verbal to full sentences in a month.  Huge blue eyes that barely contain the mischief lurking within, a dimpled smile charming us all.

He's got this entire family ensorcelled, my Samuel Thomas. His words, his dancing, his singing - he floats through our day and lights it up.  Impeccably behaved (with the mortifying exception of our Parent/Teacher/IEP Meeting on Friday morning, just hours before I was admitted), suddenly completely toilet trained and oh-so-completely aware of the spell under which he casts all and sundry, my littlest boy is revelling in the love of everyone around him.

He makes me breathe.  He makes me think I'll get better.   It's not just him, of course.  Joel is being wonderful, as always.  Strong, sweet, gentle Joel - always completely there for us.  And my Alexander - the earnest, impossibly sweet child of my heart. Bittersweet though, as I watch him sad this year, having lost his best friends and all that he had aqquired last year. I watch him and my heart swells, with love and with hurt.  It hurts to look at those beautiful brown eyes and see the pain that they simply can't hide.

But right now, with my Sam.  There is yellow.  It is all warmth and happiness. Everything about him right now is good and easy and worth living for.  Worth being here, engaged in every moment - terrified to miss the next funny thing he says.  The next deliberate batting of the eyelashes-head to the side "Pleeeeeease Mama" as he swipes another cookie.

Casting his light and warmth on me, coaxing me out of my exile. I'm so incredibly grateful for this face.  These chubby arms that are constantly wrapped around my neck.  The softest, softest skin I have ever felt as I stroke his cheeks.  The cutest backside and chubby legs running from one room to another - one adventure with "Brubba" to the next.