Sometimes I try to write some poetry (think more free form, not so much Emily Dickinson…). I’ll be the first to admit, it’s not so great. But a boy that I went to elementary school with in Kentucky, Jason, has been on my mind for the last month or so quite a bit. He actually did give me a stuffed reindeer and I do still have it. It sits on my dresser at home. I hope you’ll take a moment to pray for him and his family, and all other families who include someone with special needs (as well as the roughly 30,000 children who will die today from starvation and water-borne illnesses).
Here in Turkey, disabilities aren’t really mentioned. There’s no Turkish Sign Language. Why not? Because then one would have to admit that there are deaf people in Turkey. And I’ve seen people in wheelchairs struggle to get around, because store entrances and sidewalks aren’t made with special needs in mind.
For Jason
At Christmastime each year,
I gently hold a stuffed reindeer,
a red stocking
sewn between its hooves.
I remember the day you gave it to me–
it was cold outside and I was hanging up my coat in the hallway,
where you stopped me.
The stocking was filled with bubble gum
and you said, “Merry Christmas, Robin!”
in that raspy voice of yours.
We moved away soon after, but I think of you often.
At 6 years old, you had one lung less
than the other first-graders,
and asthma marred any attempt at easy breathing.
Even though it led to fits of coughing,
you would laugh often.
You always said, “Hello.”
Though you did not have much, you gave freely
in your love.
So, if somehow you are reading this,
your raspy voice now that of a man,
your wheelchair leaving tracks in the snow as you travel,
I would just like to say:
Merry Christmas, Jason.
