The phone rings and I can see before I reach for it that the call is coming from Declan's school. Perhaps it is the school secretary calling to give us a date for the next parent meeting. The next meeting we have is going to be a big one; we will have a lot of work to do to plan for a smooth transition to middle school.
Middle school. The thought of it makes me break out in hives. Of course, I am conjuring my own, awkward memories of middle school, but I am also drawing from Tova's days in that bastion of hormones, pimples, and social jockeying. As soon as she was finished and entered high school, she seemed to have shed a burden like phoenix rising from the ashes. The difference was palpable, as if she was free to be who she is and always was before the pressures of middle school sent her into hiding. How, I think, will I get Declan through unscathed?
I pick up the phone and it is Sandra, the school nurse. We are friends by way of a mutual friend, but also because we communicate so often about Declan. He tends to use her office as a sanctuary; a place to go when things get too overwhelming. Recently, he has also been reporting to her when he has unusual sensations in his head. We are not certain if the short, unusual episodes he is having has anything to do with seizures, but we honor them to be certain for his next trip to the doctor.
"Hi Jen," she says casually. "I have Declan with me and he is having that feeling again."
"What is he saying?"
"He says that they're having a party in his head." He is referring to perhaps intermittant flashing, sounds, or twinges, as if there really was a party going on. Other times, when the sensations move from one part of his head to another, he says that they are "playing tag" up there. His choice of words gives us a better understanding of what it must be like.
"Did he say anything else about it?" I asked
"Well," Sandra said, "I asked him if he could be more descriptive about the party, and after some thought, he said it could be a sweet sixteen."
We laugh at statements like these. In fact, I ask Sandra if we had ruled out anniversaries and bar mitzvahs. It is the ernestness with which he shares his very literal answers that make communicating with him so fascinating and charming. His intentions are pure and his trust is without any reserve. But I am conflicted. I know that middle school is rapidly approaching, and despite our best efforts to prepare him, these beautiful moments may well be the same ones that eventually hurt him.
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