Every day is truly a new day.
It starts over.
It begins again.
Sometimes we think the things we learned the day before will make a difference in our new today.
Sometimes we hope for miracles.
Sometimes we face the new today with resolve.
Sometimes we decide not to face the new day at all.
Yesterday our smallest person had a perfect day.
That should be said in all caps and with fireworks shooting off.
It should be celebrated as the miracle it was.
Our smallest person made it through a whole day without tantrums that frightened people, without assaulting anyone, without damaging or destroying anything. No people were cussed down or spit on.
Even more miraculous?
Our smallest person was happy.
I saw smiles and laughter-the real genuine kid kind. The kind that trauma kids don't even know exists and then when they finally find out how to be a kid and it happens, people cry. That kind of laughter and smiles.
Today is a new day.
What ever that was yesterday is gone.
We don't have that today.
Today we decided very early in our morning not to even risk school and just head to therapy.
Outside it is a bright, beautiful, amazing spring day.
Inside our small person, it is black and bleak and awful.
I think yesterday was a gift.
It was a moment in time for the small person and I to notice and hold in awe.
It is something for the two of us to hold onto and look at with marvelous wonder and hope.
It was the gift of hope.
Hope for the time when we turn our steps to a new part of this journey because we won't forever walk on this exact path.
It will always be a part of our now, joint stories, but it will not be the definer of either of us.
But that day of laughter and joy and almost understanding love, I'd be happy to have that be the definer of who I am.