Blue is for Boys

Kevin arrived on the planet three weeks ahead of schedule.  It seemed to me like he hardly opened his eyes for the next three weeks.  My husband and I were visually impaired and had drilled the doctors in both Raleigh and at Duke about the possibility of passing on the genes that had brought on our sight deprivation.  Even so, I kept asking the doctor in the hospital if my baby’s eyes were okay because he kept them shut so much.  We had a long talk and I thought the doctor understood about babies and blindness.  Still, on the morning I was going home, I noticed four doctors coming into the hospital room along with several nurses until the room was crowded.  It didn’t take me but a minute to realize they wanted to watch me feed, burp, and change the baby.  At that time my vision was “count fingers at nine feet.”  

When Kevin finally did keep those eyes open it was obvious that they had the look of intelligence.  Knowing this, I began teaching him his letters at the same time he was learning to say “Mommy” and “Daddy”.  One day we were downtown waiting on a bus which all had signs of where they were going.  I could not see the signs, so I held Kevin up.  He was not yet quite eighteen months old, but people around me were shocked when the child began spouting off things like “L O N G V I E W G A R D E N S,” the name of our bus.  

I could read the Little Golden Books if I held them close to my eyes, but I knew Kevin would want to see the pictures.  I memorized many Little Golden Books until he could read them for himself.  By the time Christi came along, I found out you can buy books with Braille on one side of the page and pictures on the other.  What a relief!

Kevin didn’t seem to get into as much mischief as his sister.  I truly believe to this day, it is because he did not do things so spontaneously but planned exactly how not to get caught.  He also enjoyed playing tricks on me at times.  Many times I was holding onto his arm while we were running on the pavement.  He would say, “Step up.”  I would make an awkward step as he laughed and said, “Mama, you know there are no steps in a parking lot!”  Since I only could see out of one eye, it was always easy for him to slip his hand over that side of my plate and steal French fries.  Actually I enjoyed those little harmless tricks as they broke up the monotony of ordinary days, or of knowing I had to hold onto his arm if I expected to run very fast in a strange place. 

Once in fifth grade, I visited his class with my mom.  Since Kevin had been learning how to make introductions, his teacher told him he could introduce her and my mother.  He looked at the two women, trying to assess which was the oldest so he could introduce her first.  It didn’t help his grade when he introduced his teacher first.

I wonder when he writes his memoirs if he will remember all those bike rides we took through the neighborhood when his dad was at work, before he got his driver’s license.  My vision was “count fingers at six feet” then.  And then there was one day we both got the bright idea of walking home from the doctor’s office, not realizing it was eight miles.   

Today an eight-mile walk would truly just be a walk in the park for him as he enjoys running relays and/or marathons.  I will leave his life’s accomplishments for him to write at some later date, perhaps with his own son. 

I must say that the very best times of my life have been those of raising my children and the times I kept my grandchildren for them to work.  I enjoy a blessed relationship with each of them individually and as a family.  Kevin and I don’t take long walks together anymore, nor run through streets or parking lots as Vivi is my guide now.  My vision is count one finger at three inches.  Yet, I can still see in my mind that little blue suit that swallowed my boy when I carried him home from the hospital.