Healed

I've had another full day trip to the Bay Area. It's sort of been my commute the last few weeks as it's the 3rd time this month. That was yesterday. Another day of waking up and leaving before the family opens their eyes. Getting on a plane, rental car doing what I do and coming back. All in a days work. This time I made it back before little man was asleep and got to see him finish off a day of good health and good spirits. And after the silent breathing began and little man was drifting into the deep sleep his body deserves, I got the run down of the day from his mom (i'll explain "his mom" In a bit). A good day, she said. I called in the morning when I landed in Oakland and little man answered the phone. A few seconds of fumbling and then his "hi." He tells me he's at karate. I'm surprised he's picking up the phone in that case. He continues to say he's not doing it, but his mom is (he calls her "my mom" to me sometimes and it cracks me up - I'm like, dude, I know it's your mom - she's my wife!). Orit does kickboxing where he does karate, so he was hanging out with his buddy. I asked him later if mom looked sexy kicking and punching the bag in class. He said he didn't watch. Ah, the 6yr. old mind. Anyway, after class, the two of them saw a movie, ate and little man went to his first karate class since the operation. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the marker we've been waiting for. The sign. Or maybe much more definitive than a sign. Maybe the ribbon at the finishing line that was broken by the knife hand with the first KEEEAAAYY! Patient no more. The rebuild of the healthy boy routine may commence and our lives can continue to move forward. Today, Theo went to a bowling birthday party. He ate pizza, cupcake, bowled a strike, screamed out loud (apparently really loud) and was lost in the moment. Exactly where you want him to be. Now they're back. Orit and little man are taking down his old art from the walls, making room for new material. Starting fresh. And in the moment. Breathing easily...