It has been a week since our AT Intensive. It seems like it has been years. Hope is the worst she has ever been, in the length, frequency, and physicality of her rages.
Small glimmers of hope, so small, if you blink you miss them
Her head resting briefly on my shoulder, when no one is looking. Fingers "accidentally" brushing me face as she walk by. Sharing the little corn cobs from her dinner because she knows I like them. Smiling, looking straight at my eyes as she gets on the bus.
Little things that are gone like the mist, leaving Hope trying to claw my eyes out.
I saw it. Something is working inside her. So I wait.