The world of a special needs mother
I sit on the peripheral, glancing at the time displayed on my phone
It all comes down to time
Every precious second of it
Time is dictated by my child
Time revolves around him
It's not his fault
It is not mine
It just is
My personal window of time is limited
I can make a plan for extra time
A little pocket of an extra hour, or two, or three
But time always pulls me back in
Back to my child
It's not his fault
It is not mine
It just is
I am constrained by time, or rather, a lack of it
Unlimited time is elusive
Freedom of time is deeply missed
Time is a little gargoyle upon my shoulder
Whispering in my ear... "It's time to go, it's time to leave, it's time........"
Being a slave to time is about responsibility, not martyrdom
It's about my child
It's not his fault
It is not mine
It just is.
Who understands?
Not many
Who accommodates?
Not many
Who cares?
Not many
The world of a special needs mother
It's not his fault
It is not mine
It just is