The Roller Coaster

One of my favorite movies is Parenthood. Great honest performances, thoughtful characters, super great dialogue and who doesn't love that grandmother. Agreed she is a bit two dimensional but she has arguably some of the best lines in the film. Of course her shining moment comes toward the end where she relates her "Roller Coaster" anecdote. I know, I know Babaloo Mandel and the boys kinda hit you over the head with the metaphor but it's still a great one and one that I have to remind myself of everyday as a foster parent.

I couldn't stop crying last night. Now, everyone that knows me, knows that I am a crier. I cry at movies (even ones that I probably shouldn't be crying at), certain songs and I am even one of those "sappy ass dudes" who cries at some commercials. I have always been this way and I have come to terms with it, for the most part;  Admittedly, I still exit the occasional dude filled room.

Last night was different, I wasn't crying over the ending to A Color Purple or that crazy sad scene in Whale Rider when Paikea balls her eyes out because her grandfather Pakka is acting like a dick. I wasn't listening to Jeff Buckley or Martha Wainwright and I wasn't even watching that ruthless commercial where the dad builds his daughter a tree house and she brings him a glass of lemonade. I was lying in bed with a broken heart.

Yesterday, was perfect. Sleep was restful, a cool morning breeze from our bedroom window woke me with a gentle brush across my face. My eyes opened to a beautiful woman sleeping next to me (made all the better by the fact that it was my wife), her soft skin a gift to my touch. Our boxer Brutus crashed at my feet and our sweet cat Adelaid cuddled at his side.

"So much love all around me".

All was beautiful in my universe but my heart wasn't done swooning.

The first sounds our foster child makes in the morning are usually those of him singing. Falling all around the scale his tiny voice sounds so deliberate that I would swear he's writing something. He sings and sings and then exclaims something that can only be interpreted as utter joy to the waking day. That joy floats up out of his crib and makes it's way upstairs to me and my wife and it infects me like nothing I have ever known.

My wife stirs, looks up at me and smiles. We kiss.

"Good morning my love."

With that, my wife is up (her turn, I think), and down stairs. I lie back and listen to the scene. I can hear him get excited when she enters the room, there is more singing. A fuss or two as she lays him on the changing pad but that is quickly quieted with a warm bottle. I hear a laugh, she is probably playing with the ball at the end of the chain hanging from the ceiling fan in the boys' room. I hear a thud, it's the bottle, then I hear him exclaim his disapproval at his own throwing of said bottle. More singing, a little fussing and then footsteps. I can't take my eyes off our bedroom door because I know who is about to turn their "big ol noggin" around it.

And there is that smile. It's so big, I am sure you can see it from space. I have witnessed very few things in my life that can compare with his smile.

The next several minutes are spent "wrestling" and rolling about our bed. A few books are perused, then a pull off that ever present bottle, which he talks to and loves on by the way. He pesters Adelaide until she goes down stairs and then turns his eyes to Brutus, who just takes it. More bottle and more curiosity at everything around him.

I am a very fortunate person that I know love. I know love of family, friends and wife, but this, this was a love that I didn't know existed until that moment and it vibrated in me all day.

It was a big day, and when the time came, sleep came easy for the boy, so much so that he didn't even need rocking but I did it anyway. I rocked and sang to him and felt the loving warmth of total contentment and that's when a little voice in me said:

"What are you doing?"

"He doesn't belong to you"

"His mother wants him back and that's just the way that it is and there is nothing you can do about it"

I held him closer.

Tears.

Putting him in his crib last night was harder than it has ever been and when I finally laid my own head down, I couldn't stop crying.

I guess I like the roller coaster too.