It’s been a year or so since I wrote. Tome, interest, undisciplined...some combination of all those.
But now I have need to get some things out of my head, in that way that is public, but actually, I’m just yelling into the void.
Atti might be sick. He has a weird symptom, the skin on his palms started flaking off last week. I assumed the rewound tell me it was some kind or reaction, but he didn’t ask anything like that. He wanted blood tests. Which was it’s whole own nightmare, but that’s another post. But now we are waiting for the results.
And at night, when I’m alone with him as he falls asleep, I’m terrified. I’ve googled and gotten some scary stuff - but I also know that it’s not very likely. But...
But, what if it is something bad. Really bad. What if the dramas of the last year, the not-very-original dramas of a bright funny wriggly little boy having a tough time dealing with the restrictions of formal education are about to be swamped by real, non-of-that-first-world-bullshit problems?
I’m so frightened I’ve started talking to, pleading with (praying???) my dead grandparents to help me protect him. And I don’t believe in this stuff. No matter how clearly I can see their faces in my mind today. As I beg them to help me.
So now we wait. And cry silently in the dark. And have all my stuff made look so so small by this big question mark I’m staring at.
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