Christopher’s neurosurgeon thinks he might be able to play soccer next season but since his brain is not yet healed, any physical contact is considered risky and is therefore prohibited. So there he stands on the sidelines, watching enviously while his peers engage in 1 v 1’s, vying for a spot on the team.
A year ago on this day, he had come out of his coma and was high on narcotics. He was sweet and funny, saying things like, “Hey Emily, there are two of you and you have, like 8,000 eyes!” and “Nick, your socks are fantastic and your shoes are sick!”
As much as my heart breaks for Christopher, I can’t help but be grateful to see him standing there, desperately wishing to be in the middle of the action. He has come so far, and this could have ended so differently. He will play soccer again; perhaps not this year, but that day will come. For now, I will count my blessings and give thanks for the life of my miracle boy.
