We have rules and ceremony and expectations around our days and nights but twilight is a magical and shadow filled time. At worst, we miss it completely. At best, we stop, appreciate its mystery, and perhaps notice something we haven't before.
Cooper, my twilight son, does not fit in with the well trodden world of the "average" kid nor does he really fit with the world of the exceptionally challenged child. He occupies an "in between" place. It is home to him and an adventure to understand for those who love him.
Cooper endured preschool, was overwhelmed by kindergarten, and experienced defeat in first grade. Always a tentative child, we witnessed him spiral downward into fear, anxiety, and negative self judgement. Raised in a loving and happy home, Cooper at the age of 7 was ill at ease and desperately unhappy.
Quick, easily available, accepted solutions were unhelpful, perhaps destructive. Multiple meetings with school left us no better off and Cooper no better understood. A parade of therapists, learning experts, tutors, and psychiatrists gave us the full spectrum of experience from hope with glimpses of valuable insight to confusion with conflicting information to anger with pat answers and uninspiring diagnostic opinion.
In the end, there were no simple answers. No magic formulas. No step by step guide. Loving Cooper was just not enough.
At this point, I picture my family on a road hand in hand in hand. The road is utterly foreign to us with no map and no signs. We know where we hope the road will lead although that may change. We know it is up to us to choose our traveling companions wisely. We know we will have to be clear and strong in our beliefs. We look at our son and realize that we must trust him to guide us. We turn to the road and it is twilight. Cooper's journey begins.
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How beautiful, insightful, and wanting to learn and understand more.
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