Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean

Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore. 
-Lord Byron

My soul is full of longing
For the secret of the sea,
And the heart of the great ocean
Send a thrilling pulse through me
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace. 
-Kate Chopin


Sometimes it's easy to forget that my son is different. He's endured trauma and horrors beyond my comprehension. I don't know why I forget. The trauma is always brewing right on the edge...either in him or in me. It's like this entity that's always lurking over our heads. Yet I found myself saying to my husband tonight, "I don't get it, when I was that age........." My husband stopped me. "Remember, we're not dealing with your average 10-year-old." How could I forget?

We're constantly struggling with boredom. I know what you're thinking but no, it's not that kind of boredom. It's more than that. It's like nothing matters. No activity, no engagement means anything. While kids are out riding bikes, running through the neighborhood, playing with friends......I have one child that sits alone with nothing to do. A room full of toys, shelves stacked with books, a garage stuffed with sporting goods and there's nothing to play with. A beautiful park a block away, every sporting field you could want just across the street, a drug store and money burning a hole in his pocket, and there's nowhere to go. I've purchased tool kits, rockets, crafts, puzzles, games, you name it. Nothing is worth expelling energy on. I've encouraged sports teams, music lessons, church clubs. Only emptiness. And then frightening anger at the emptiness and the boredom. Sometimes it feels hopeless.

There are moments where the boredom in conquered. It's like he's a "normal", "average" child. The smiles are real and they're easy. There is peace. When we go to the beach, everything else goes away. No trauma. No hurt. I see the child he should have been. I never want to leave. I don't think he does either. It's perfection. I've never had anything create so much peace for my child. No medication or therapy has ever healed like the beach does. Is it the calming sound of the waves? The smell? The breeze? I have no idea. All I know is the fear melts away and we get to see him. And it's beautiful.

I'm so thankful to have this opportunity.