As we cleared immigration at our port of entry I began to gather our things and go through the next check point when a voice called out "excuse me, mam". That sinking gut feeling overtook as I turned and saw the immigration officer motioning for me to return to his counter. "Are you sure you have the right child?" What was he asking? I knew my son, I knew everything was done with the utmost honesty with every i dotted and every t crossed, so what could he mean? My eyes asked the questions my mouth couldn't. Asking me if I had read the document in his hand, which of course I hadn't as it is sealed until an immigration officer opens it. He handed it to me and allowed me to read the reason in which he wanted reassurance.... "child is severely mentally retarded and mute". He looked at me and said "your son is not either one of those". Tears welled up and I thanked him for seeing the amazing little boy I saw.
Those words were never meant to be his legacy or identity. For that matter they didn't even describe him while he was in his home country. Amazing isn't it that no matter what country it is, we deal with the same issues. What we see or read on paper is not who the child is inside.
That moment at the immigration officers counter, reading those words was brought to the forefront of my mind while in the doctors office yesterday. Informing the doctor that I had mentioned on national television that my son would most likely walk within a year, I expected a miracle and could he deliver. "No pressure" he said laughing. Thankfully what followed was music to our ears. "YES! He will walk within a year".
Have you ever cried joyous tears that simply won't stop? I did! He has wanted to walk since the day I met him and now it is no longer my hope for him but a reality.
Mountains of work has to be done to get there, that we know, but the end goal is so beautiful that we press on. I watched my son's face light up as he heard the words from the doctor followed by an such an infectious giggle we all had to join in.
