big boys don't cry

He was going to fly planes.

...And also be an Astronaut; an Archeologist, a shark diving helicopter pilot with a cannon, who married his sister.   All of which I was very comfortable with, even the sister marrying part, but then he wasn't.   

Then he wasn't interested in any of it.  And then he sort of wanted to be nothing when he grew up, not even a shark diver and maybe not marry his sister after all. In fact he decided that he didn't want to grow up.  He wanted to be a baby all over again and stay that way forever.   

And then he sort of was.

I thought we had met our quota in the social maladies department in this teeny, tiny family of mine. 

Apparently not.

Would you believe that some of the smartest folks on earth are Dyslexic?  

It's true

thya uwer.  (they are)

Tomorrow morning, my son, my sun, will wake up, put on his new uniform and spend his day at a school for Dyslexic kids and though I'm feeling awfully fortunate to have figured out what exactly was getting him down, robbing him of his desire to soar through the sky, swim with man eaters, dig up old bones, blow holes in the world and screw up our blood line with potential incest, I'm still sort of freaked out about it.  

I have spent the majority of the past month with him night and day, night and day, night and day - while he's missed school, lost 1/6th of his body weight, been sickly and anxious, afraid to read, feeling dumb and hopeless - and it's been one of the saddest, sweetest times of my life.  

As I tell him not to be afraid of the new school, I have to say it to myself as well.  

Gonna hurt to let go of his little hand.  

We've had some of the most meaningful conversations of my life over the past thirty some odd days.  Together we've Christmas shopped, shared secrets, planned meals, taken walks, developed a routine thats become, well, routine.   

We've listened to an awful lot of music.  We have "our songs".  We have our lunch spots, our sleeping positions.  He's become a resident in my bed.  We have our private jokes and we have our shared attachment to his sister, whom we wait anxiously for outside the school yard gate at the end of each day.  The school yard where he used to play, where he loved to be, until he didn't anymore, until letters and words caught up to him.

Crazy to admit to myself and then of course to you, that it hurts to do the right thing. You see, I know that my very smart boy is going to fit right in at the new school.  He's going to learn to read.  He's going to realize how very clever he is.  He's going to make friends, feel strong.  He's going to love school and probably sleep in his own bed.  He'll start dreaming of diving with sharks, finding ancient ruins, flying to the stars and probably even find some non-relative girl whom he can legally wed.   I'm going to lose him to himself; his bright, sweet, brave, incredible self.

Just remember my little man, you can always come home.