Mathemagic


One Thousand Fifty Seven counting towards Fourty One.

Math. Numbers. Audiograms. I remember wondering what on earth I would need such for on my path towards obtaining my MA Degree in Counseling and Licensure in Mental Health. Good ‘ole human nature hard at work, helping us justify shying away from the unfamiliar. Blending in was never my thing, despite feeling anxious to the core. The need to understand math, was an underlying desire to understand as much as possible there is to absorb during my time between each sunrise and sunset.

One thousand fifty seven sunrises have passed following the plus sign that turned into a V. Valentina. Fourty one sunsets await until we mark one year post diagnosis.



Nature. Magical. The sun rises and sets without considering who intends on participating. Howbeit, life continues despite who decides to pull up a chair, refilling the half full rose colored glasses. Not all bite the apple, but so many post lovely photos at the Orchard.

Three Hundred Twenty Four.

In 324 days my opinion of human nature has transformed into a view that resembles what I hope most are never privy to endure. Close your eyes and picture yourself in quicksand just as you had finally escaped the wrath of narcissism. The light within your grasp now dims yet again. Others around you are exclaiming words of encouragement, anger, convoluted attempts of providing anything but what was needed. Words, without a hand. Never was one for hand holding but never was one for quicksand.

Completely impossible to articulate what it feels like to be told your child’s world is a quiet place. Many mixed emotions as a part of me had felt relief to have some validation and a better understanding of how to move forward. For me, it was not my daughter’s diagnosis that overwhelmed me, but rather the response or lack thereof.

A quiet place is where we now reside, embracing each other and capitalizing on each and every moment in learning our new world. Moments have become minutes, hours, days, weeks and in 41 days will make a year. A year I could never have prepared for. A year in which I can look back as I type and sit in awe of all we have accomplished together; my 3yr old and I. A great sadness in my heart knowing our journey behind closed doors is never witnessed, because with all my heart, we share the closest, most respectful relationship I have ever experienced and more than I could have ever imagined I’d be able to provide.

The tears hardly stream, but they stream now as I type and my daughter is in bed. Tears because for every day that passes, now starts with yet another new verbal phrase from my V. This morning, was, “…mommy, come on, lets go! It snowed!…” with her personality glaring through. And, as she left the room to put on her boots, I held back the tears of joy. Instead, I smiled, laughed out loud and heard my little Valentina mirror my laughter from the kitchen. Exactly.

1 Mommy’s laughter plus 1 daughter’s laughter = Mathemagic.

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