Deja Vu

You know when a certain smell or atmosphere brings you back to a certain place in your life? You almost feel exactly the same as you did then. Well, that's happening to me tonight.

Every time we went to see Sawyer, at 7:00 p.m. and 11:00 p.m. they had 45 minute periods where we weren't allowed to be in the NICU. They changed shifts and did reports. When it was time to go, Jim and I would ride up the glass elevator to the top level of the parking lot, where we had parked our car, and sit overlooking the Illinois River, talking about Sawyer and looking out at the stars. It was really beautiful, and it was a lovely, excited feeling of hope and joy about our son. We honestly felt like he was going to make it . . .he was so strong and full of life. We'd just sit and watch the sky, sometimes listen to music . . .we would often take in the CD we were listening to and play Sawyer a song.

Tonight, the weather and the smell in the air brought me right back to those nights. I almost feel like getting in my car and going up to the top level of the parking deck at OSF. In fact, I might just do so. Somehow I feel like I'd be closer to him for a moment.

One evening, just at dusk, we saw two hawks circling just over the NICU. We thought they must be sent from Heaven to watch over our boy. I'd like to see them again, circling through the dim stars in the dull twilight. I'd feel like Sawyer was watching me, telling me it was okay, and that he was with Brian.