boy in a bed

I saw this picture online of a boy in a bed, 15 years old but appearing much younger, lying face down with arms at his side.  He laid immobile on a sheet, no pillow or blanket.  There were no restraints on him to keep him from moving off the bed, but there he lay, and had laid for the last 8 years, as described the caption.

With the exception of being taken to be washed, the bed was his home.  There are no restraints needed when muscles have atrophied and the will to live is dying. He lives in an institution for the disabled, I’m not sure what his special needs are, but I know that his life was meant for so much more.  This boy in a bed has been burned into my memory and seared into my heart.

When I greet my Cody in the morning with a kiss and a warm “Good morning sweetheart”, I wonder if he also receives a greeting of love.

When I give Cody a fresh breakfast at the family kitchen table, I imagine what his first meal is like.

While I help Cody learn to dress himself, give him a high 5 when he manages the shirt all on his own, I wonder if this boy has known the pride of achieving a goal.

When Cody and I stand at the end of our driveway waiting for the school bus, I wonder if this boy knows the feel of the fresh morning air, the chill that lingers from nighttime, the peace that comes from hearing the birds call.

When I meet with his teachers, make plans for learning goals, advocate and research tools to help Cody learn, I wonder if anyone sees his potential and teaches him.

When Cody and I jump on the trampoline, his smiles and giggles filling the air, I wonder if ever this boy has jumped or felt the rush of motion as his body moves in the air.

When I love Cody with my heart and soul, I wonder if anyone loves him.

I do.

If only I could reach across the miles….

“Good morning lovely boy”, I would say.  “Come!  Time to get up off your bed and live this day together.  You have so much to give, so much to learn.”

 

 

 

 

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