{image is a photo of Brooke singing Happy last night:

Because I’m happy
Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof
Because I’m happy
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth
Because I’m happy
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you
Because I’m happy
Clap along if you feel like that’s what you wanna do

I know that Freud would have a field day with this, but the truth is that I find it easier to write about pain than to find words that are big enough to hold joy.

I wanted to write this morning about Brooke’s concert last night. To somehow convey the beauty of the series of moments in which my girl was so perfectly, deliciously herself, so purely accepted and appreciated and celebrated and cheered on by peers and siblings and parents and grandparents and teachers and all of the people who saw her – truly saw her – in all of her gloriously messy, beautiful, brilliant dimension.

I don’t have the words yet. I just don’t.

I know that they will come. They always do. But for today, I’m simply going to do what my daughter has taught me so well — to live inside the feeling and trust that it doesn’t need words to be real.


9 thoughts on “happy

  1. Now I am singing that song, too, and you know what? It’s impossible to feel grumpy with this song running through my head. And your picture….worth a thousand words to show us the joy of last night’s concert!

  2. Behavior is communication 😉 no words needed. Like you said, her body does happy, and your words do love. This post, though it doesn’t say a lot, says it all.

  3. Brooke is her beautiful, delicious self. She’s an incredible (and multi- talented) wonderful girl!

    Love you,

  4. Love that song. It does make you smile and feel like tapping your toes. I’m needing it today. Tomorrow, Quentin goes in to have his, hopefully, last surgery to close his last remaming open wound. Wound vac up his bottom is working and did its job. And you know what, he’s STILL happy, always singing and laughing, while going through almost a year of being in the hospital and having tubes coming from everywhere and machines beeping. He is my warrior and hero and he makes ME smile every day:)

  5. I love the way you described your daughter as visible, herself, accepted, and loved. It is a perfect metaphor for what I hope for autistic people like myself to be treated as someday, and she seems to be headed in the right direction on that note.

    • Ben. Thank you so much for your comments. They mean the world to me, and undoubtedly, will mean the world to Brooke someday. Warmly, Jess

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