Love from a to Z

ADAM
FRIDAY, MARCH 22
MARVEL:
DAD
I 
WOKE UP WITH TINGLING
in my arms again, more than yesterday. And the first thing I
did was reach for my phone to call Dad.
He helped me sit up, to check my movements slowly, before lending his
shoulder for me to try to stand.
My legs were okay. My steps were okay.
Joy rushed inside, and I let it out by hugging Dad. “Thanks. Thank you,
Dad.”
“Do you want to rest again, or are you ready to start the day?” He rubbed
my back before letting go, and I was relieved his voice was happy, not
stressed.
“I wanted to finish the room for Hanna. But I’m not so sure with my
arms.” I kneaded them to get at the feelings of pins and needles coursing
throughout. “I just had a bit more to do.”
Dad leaned back against my dresser. “How okay is it if I do it? If you
direct me?”
“Completely okay.”
“Then let’s do it. Before Hanna wakes up.”
• • •
Dad rigged the light system, finished attaching the remaining cutouts, and
secured the fake moss to parts of the stone chips I’d glued on the floor.
Then he hung the mobile of tiny geese flying in a V formation in the far
corner of the room.

---

When he went to wake up Hanna, I closed the door and turned the lights
on.
The entire room, except for the floor, was made up of blues, ranging from
the lightest white blue near the floor to the darkest, inkiest blues swathing
the ceiling. The whole place was also lit by various kinds of lights—from
streams of small, flickering lights to strong spotlights—and they
highlighted different parts of the room, different things to be examined.
I lay on the beanbag chair Dad had carried down from the living room
before he went to get Hanna.
I let myself completely chill, head back, hands behind my head,
breathing even.
The world in the room surrounded me with its signs of life, the ones I’d
noticed and amassed over time.
There was even a potato in a display box on a pedestal in the corner. A
plastic potato, yes, but I’d painted over it with a matte-brown acrylic and
rubbed dirt into it.
That had been one night three years ago when I couldn’t sleep and went
to get water and saw the potato sticking out of Hanna’s toy box.
A lowly potato was a marvel if you thought about it.
• • •
The door burst open, and Hanna walked in, hands covering her eyes, with
Dad following behind.
“ADAM!” she screamed when she opened them.
I laughed and stood up. “Look all you want, then sit back on this throne
to really enjoy it. Happy birthday.”
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. This is amazing!” She moved
around like a Ping-Pong ball, drawn from one object to another. “A path!”
She stepped on the stones gingerly, bending down to touch the moss here
and there, and stopped and straightened up at the potato stand at the end of
the path. “A POTATO?”
Her laughter was so worth it.
I went to stand beside her, and she turned and threw her arms around me.
“This is the best, Adam. Thank you a million times! Can this be my room?”
“I don’t know about that. It’s kind of like the world. It kinda belongs to
everyone.” I turned her to face the potato. “Although, this potato is yours. I

---

stole it from your toy box when you were a simple, young girl.”
“Whaaat?” She peered at it. “Well, I donate it to this museum of the
world, then!”
“Thanks. Speaking of potatoes, I’m getting something to eat. You enjoy
the room.”
“I’m going to lie on the throne and enjoy all the lights!” She made her
way to the beanbag chair and lay down, a sigh rising from her as she took in
the ceiling. “Does it say something in Arabic?”
“Yeah. It’s a verse from the Qur’an. About the sky. I copied it from one
of the pictures in Dad’s office.”