"Hey," she says. "Did I tell you about the boys' lemonade stand?" She told me a bit last Saturday, but I was sure she remembered that part: she made me cry.
"No," I say, thinking I am prepared, I will not start blubbering again.
"Well, I told you how they made $30 when they made the sign that said, Lucy's Lemonade, right?" she says, "and the 20% donation to the Hydrocephalus Foundation?"
"Yes," I say, I am prepared, I will not start blubbering again.
"The boys decided by themselves to change it to a 100% donation. They changed the sign and made a hundred bucks. The Newspaper ran a little story on it. Lucy's name is in the paper."
I am losing it. My eyes start to fail me. They are leaking.
"The cool thing is," my sister tells me, "that the boys got to tell people about it when they stopped to get lemonade or donate money."
I've lost it. Lost it! Completely gone. I thought I was prepared. (Ha! toughen up this hormone-laden mother? My wits are gone, too.)
See, Lucy is doing SO well. So well. But she is 2 years old and there is no cure for hydrocephalus. Chances are, we'll have to deal with it again. Don't get me wrong, there are countless worse things to be dealing with in life... We all have our challenges, so few of them are public, let alone comprehensible to the general observer. But that 100$ may make a difference for Lucy. It may make a difference for someone else who relies on a brain drain to avoid brain damage. Right now, Hydrocephalus is an incredibly small part of Lucy's life. I've met people whose lives are absorbed by it.
The kicker for me was the idea of Lucy's cousins (and their friends) raising money with our little Lucy in mind. Talk about a soft spot.
Yeah. I cry. So?
