wishing i could get out to simpson's point and pennellville today. it is beautiful on days like these when it's seven degrees. wishing calvin hadn't suffered two grand mals last night. wishing he had made it further than eight days. wishing he hadn't been so panicky for hours afterwards—heart racing, palms sweating, his little body tense and trembling. wishing i had a harmless antidote to give him. wishing i'd gotten more sleep. wish i had less stress. less anxiety. less clenching of my teeth. my worry over him is devastating.
wishing calvin didn't get a fourth close covid contact at school last thursday. wishing school weren't remote this week. wishing he were a normal kid, whatever that means. wishing this pandemic never got to this point. wishing more folks trusted and understood the science. wishing folks thought of others instead of just themselves. wishing people had masked and vaccinated and stayed home whenever they could. wishing people didn't take certain unnecessary risks possibly putting others in peril. wishing hospitals and their staff were not overwhelmed; everyone is tired of this pandemic, but our fatigue pales in comparison to that of healthcare workers. wishing so many people weren't getting sick and dying. wishing so many children weren't losing their parents. it didn't have to be this way.
wishing i knew what ailed my son. wishing he could tell me himself. wishing i knew the source of his distress on either side of his seizures. wishing there were something i could really do to make it better. wishing i had more patience to endure his misery. wishing i could wish this all away to oblivion. wishing i didn't feel so contemptuous the way i sometimes do.