Little bruises

We have spent a lot of our time this summer traveling. It has been an amazing summer with lots of lovely warm days. Its not surprising then to see so many people--young and old in shorts and lights shirts. 

Sitting in Tim Horton's recently, I saw a little girl happily playing with her grandfather. She carried a small lunch bag.  She was wearing shorts and a tank top. Her bare arms and legs visible and full of energy. The bare limbs and lunch bag sent my mind reeling back in time. 

I remembered when my youngest son was her age--around five perhaps.  I remembered his small legs.  The tops of which were often marked by small little bruises.  I remembered the tank tops he would wear and the dots that could be seen on these little limbs as well. 

At the time I thought of them as the price paid to keep my son alive. It was an invitation for people to talk and learn about diabetes.  Now, as I watched this young girl, I wondered what people really thought.  Did they ask themselves if I was abusing him? Did they mistake life saving injections for some sort of injuries? If I didn't know the difference I might have asked myself if that child was accident prone or was there something more going on. 

I looked at the little girl again.  She was full of life--full of innocence.  Her body unmarked and perfect.  I saw my son the same way.  Like his older brother, he was perfect and full of life.  He had lost some of his innocence by that age however.  He had already spent years having his body violated by needles.  He had already cheated death and we would make every second of life count.