I didn’t cut his sandwiches in the shape that he wanted.
I opened the car door for him when he wanted to do it.
My overflowing bag brushed up against the hand dryer in a public toilet and he screamed from the noise.
They all seem like small things to me and his reaction can leave me entirely deflated.
I stand there, exasperated, watching the tears stream down his face. Bracing myself for the storm.
Trying to stop a lone tear of my own.
Sometimes in the midst of everything going on I look at the brightness in his brown eyes, the childish swell of his cheeks and I realise how lucky he is that these are his biggest problems.
I started thinking about perspective, and how it finds us over time as we encounter bigger issues and greater waves of sadness.
Our problems of yesterday become smaller and smaller.
As it will to them.
So I let him fall into my arms and we both breathe out defeat.
Because right now I am that place for him to feel, it’s so easy to forget that privilege.
I try to remind myself that he is not challenging me, he is the one feeling challenged.
The little things are big things to him right now.
And they won’t always be,
I am as relieved as I am sad about that.
Because it’s not about the shape of his sandwiches,
not really.
Artwork by: https://www.instagram.com/petkovaboyana/
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