She Laughs at the Days

She stands,  unsteadily, arms stretched out. A baby bird, ready for flight. The cage keeps her safe. She tries her wings. Butter colored hair whips red cheeks, dimples. Grinning she dares. The truck lurches Round mountain curves She sways, falls into friends arms outstretched. She stands again. and laughs. Yells! The pure joy of being 10 of being free of being brave.

It started pouring rain this afternoon, washing the air from the smoke of burning rice stubble. Down in the fields I can still see the fires burning, but we can't smell them anymore. It's odd to have rain in cold season, and I'm reveling in it. The two oldest kids are off to Bangkok with Aaron to renew their passports. The Girl cried pitifully all last night and all this morning as I helped her to dress and take her things out to our friend's truck, waiting to give them a ride to the bus station. She has done this for a year and a half, cried at every parting, preferred to stay home beside me, even if it means missing out on something fun. I didn't even finish writing her birthday letter last year, though I wrote many paragraphs and struggled over it, because we were in the thick of this anxiety she was going through, not even wanting to go on outings with Beema if I wasn't going, and I couldn't figure out how to talk about it. I'm still not su

He’s only half awake, angry, because he wet the bed, and he doesn’t usually but he’s been sick, and he’s so eager to be a big kid this week. I take him to the bathroom to shower off and he has to go potty first, sick tummies lead to many potty emergencies. “Mommy, go out!” He commands. He’s three and he doesn’t want my help in the bathroom anymore. When all is done and cleaned up and I’m carrying him out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel I ask, “Do you want to come upstairs and sleep the rest of the night in mommy’s room?” Last month his half asleep angry was because I took him to the downstairs bathroom and back to bed and he wanted to come upstairs and use my bathroom and go to sleep on the floor mat next to my bed. “No! Me no want to weep in yours room mama. Me want to weep in my woom.” “Are you sure?” I’m not quite ready for this. Plus, his bed is wet and I am tired and I don’t really want to change sheets right now in the dark. “Yes, me want to weep in my woom.” S

“I'm assuming you know what's happening with Mom but just in case you don't she's being admitted to the stroke ward at the hospital." It’s the night before Thanksgiving, here in Thailand, I’m up prepping food for the next day. We’re having new friends over to celebrate with us, because when you’re from a big family, it doesn’t really feel like a celebration without lots of people in the house. “I don’t know anything. I haven’t talked to her for a few weeks." I message back. "Did she have a stroke?” She went to the hospital last night when she had a bad headache, blurred vision and her arm started twitching uncontrollably. They did a CT scan and discovered bleeding in her brain. Her heart stopped at some point and they did CPR. She was rushed to the hospital where AJ (our brother) met her at midnight last night. (He's working in town). Last update was they were managing the pain and waiting for a spot in the stroke ward. I'm going to see her