17 April 2002
|Welcome to my new home. Take a look around, take a tour. The living room is chock full of knick knacks, the kitchens stocked with food. Dont worry, you cant break anything. You can even take a peek in the closets; its new enough, I havent accumulated that shove-the-mess-in-the-corner buildup yet.
Ive divided up the words that all used to be clumped together. All essays/entries about Damian are in one place, all non-Damian entries are in another and yes, the two may well overlap. Well see how that goes. The former Day by Damian is now the more prosaic Damian daily log. It felt less cute, which felt more right. The explanation pages have as much info as I could comfortably fit about autism, about floor time, about the huge group of adults in Damians life. Ill put some pictures up there later.
It feels good to make the switch. I can stretch my arms here, I have room to breathe. There wont be as much personal excavation here as at visions and revisions. The time has passed for that, at least for me. I would have closed up shop altogether except for the one story that still needs to be told. That needs this venue right now to keep me telling it.
Damian asks me every day, "Mommy, tell me a story." In the car on the way home from school or curled up on my lap in the rocking chair on a lazy late afternoon: "Mommy, tell me a story about me." So I am.
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copyright 2002 Tamar