Beginning by avocation, and one very specific morning ending up as a fully consumptive compulsion, I find that I am a writer. Please, don't misunderstand, not one who sits at my laptop, mouth drawn in spiraling frustration, my brain screaming for just one opening line, word, idea. Nope, I am consumed; and, after a great deal of living I finally have the freedom that permits such extravagant luxury. I was led to this wonderful life by one small child. An unexpected miracle, cloaked in the tiny body of my delayed grandson, a victim of drug addiction in utero and consequently severely harmed. He is a miracle, my kiss from God. As one of my many vocations in this life has been as a NICU Practitioner, I feel that I have been ordained with the mission of teaching this small, trusting child, the meaning of laughter and understanding. To learn what the mockery of peaceful joy juxtaposed with invincible frustration is like, when you are four and looking up.I am a woman blessed, not only with this bounty of words, by virtue of being what this little child sees when he looks up.