Monday, April 30, 2012
I sat on the beach and watched them play baseball with a piece of driftwood and a purple plastic bouncy ball we brought with us, and came close to tears. I don't know what they'd do without each other.
A week or so ago, they moved into separate rooms. I worried about a number of things. A loss of connection between them. Lessened understanding. Isolation. Yet it has been just what they need. At times there are closed doors. There is always a reconnection. This morning I found Cal wrapped only in a blanket, lying on the floor of Abbott's room, talking softly to him. I'm sure they'll always have each other.
The friends we had over last night are moving in two short months, all the way across the country, back to where they came from. Although we've known the move was inevitable since we met them nine and a half years ago, its approach is devastating. Their son is Abbott's oldest friend.
As I tucked Abbott in tonight I saw through the window the house of the neighbor they spent the afternoon with. I am so glad they have him. And all felt right with the world.