A Short Walk Home by David Cry

another, and I believe that he did finally accept me as a man who loved him. Jaymee struggled through some of this as well, but was pleased when we arrived at a happy medium. After all, Jaymee’s greatest desire was to have a happy family.
    Our coming together finally signified Jaymee’s first real steps toward realizing her dreams. By entering my world, she wasintroduced to all of the trustworthy, hard-working people I’d grown up around. Jaymee was immediately surrounded by caring mothers and fathers. She began to associate with people—a
lot
of people—who were genuinely concerned for her well-being. Jaymee took to all of this like a duck to water, swimming forward from day one.
    While our life together was far from perfect (we endured Hurricane Katrina just 62 days after saying, “I do”) we managed to first survive, and then thrive together. It is amazing what love can do.
    We then moved to Tulsa, as Jaymee was a bit intimidated by the thought of another storm. Life in Tulsa wasn’t always easy for me. After all, New Orleans is where I’d become the person I am. The influences there are more powerful than one might imagine; I didn’t just
live
there, my entire identity was wrapped up in that community. And with no offense intended toward Tulsa, the network of support available to us in Louisiana was vast. Little did we know how much we would need it.
    “Of course the patient has ALD. Look at the damage in the frontal lobe. This is an easy diagnosis; can’t you see it?” The neurologist at the Children’s Hospital in New Orleans was speaking to Jaymee as though Jaymee
knew
what she was looking at. She had mistaken Jaymee for an attending physician, as opposed to the mother of the patient in question.
    Jaymee’s incredulous response sent the doctor into a tailspin. The doctor had had no intention of revealing Logan’s diagnosis in such a callous manner; she simply made a mistake. Of course, this sent Jaymee into her own tailspin of sorts, one that took some time to heal from. It’s not every day that you receive news that your 12-year-old son has a life-threatening illness.
    Once we knew that Logan was sick, it was still up to Jaymee to make sure her family carried on. She made me see clearly the need to focus on Logan’s quality of life; made me understand that loving him was all that mattered. And when his behaviors gradually began to change, she was there with words of encouragement, always trying to get him rededicated and interested in life around him again. While this initially frustrated me, I slowly began to see the need for her daily ritual. It was not for him, not really; it was for
her
. She needed to know that she had made these efforts, in order to move forward.
    It was around this time that I fell in love with my wife all over again. We did not have a traditional courtship; there were no dates, and no time to ponder the “what-ifs” about one another. We knew one another, certainly; we’d spent enough time corresponding beforehand. What we did not understand were each other’s habits and mannerisms; we instead compensated with a clear understanding of who the other person
was
. Falling in love with her all over again was not a result of “getting to know her better;” it was
seeing
this raw emotion. Understanding that she had a capacity for love unlike any other person I knew. This truly was love in its purest form.
    She showed me things that made me grow as a person. She showed me things that broke my heart. No matter what she tried for Logan, nothing ever worked. And yet she still demonstrated patience and understanding. Her heart stayed open to anything that might make his life better. Knowing that she would give to Brennan from that same delicate heart made me joyous.
    For some time, this was the way our life was. We spoke every night about Logan. We shared our fears, our concerns, our small victories and utter disappointments. We grew closer and closer. There were still turbulent