Geronimo

A lot of life is kind of wishy-washy.  Things get decided and undecided, dreamed up and then change-of-planned away, and generally made up as you go. Most of the time, when you say things like: "I will be a ballerina when I grow up!" or "now we are blood-brothers for life!" you mean it in an optimistic, yet flexible sort of way. Kind of like the washing-machine repairman when he says he will be there around lunch time.

But then again. There are times, in life, when we Mean It. There are even times when we make Solemn Vows.  Have you made some of those?  I have.
There was the time I stood in a garden with J and said "better or worse". Or when I saw a bit of bone in the red pit of Bernice's pressure sore and thought to myself, "this is the LAST one she will ever have." The times I looked at brand-new Littles in the moonlight and promised I would love them like crazy forever. Or the time I passed by a stranger in a mall, and said to my sister, "I solemnly swear I will never, never, never get a perm. Ever." There was another time.

Way in the middle of the forest in New York state, after the last one left my office for the day. What happened is that I remained utterly serene. I maintained complete integrity and composure. I gave a little chuckle and smiled, and I said, "see you again at four, then!" and waved and shut the door.

Then the air got all still and crackly. And I covered my mouth with my hands, and crumpled down on the floor by the trash bin with the rusty spots on it, and cried the kind of cry that is so hard that your back shakes but no sound comes out. Just lots and lots of tears; so many that they climb and roll over each other and make little splishes in the dust of the floor.

Just for a minute. Then I sat up and watched a little brown spider creeping under the window ledge. I thought about everything I had heard; I listened to it again in my mind. It was nobody in that room but the Big Guy upstairs, me, and the spider; but we all three know that right then I made a Solemn Vow.

Years later,  J and I were talking about taking our two ordinary little lives and maybe combining them, like vinegar and baking soda, to make one big bursting party of a future. We had a little talk about non-negotiables; the things we Had To do or have or be when we became our future selves, and the other person had to either be In, or Out.  I told him then about my Vow, this non-negotiable thing I had done in the witness of the Big Guy and the spider. And he said, of course, that he was In. It became his Vow too.

It has not been easy.  We have tried and had one obstacle or another fall like trees across our path.  But then, J's parents (his vow-granting, fairy-god-parents) came here for nine weeks.  Nine weeks of their lives, to help us make this happen.  With our Littles in their safe fairy-god-hands for several hours at a time every week, J and I went to a lot of meetings. A LOT.  We had our fingerprints taken and answered deluges of questions. We had our house and selves investigated to a point that stopped just short of picking through the strands of our hair for evidence of lice, or perhaps use of the wrong shampoo. And in the end, finally, we were deemed worthy of keeping our Vow.  We became foster parents.

It has been more than ten years since that moment in New York.  But our first two children came to us right after we got home from Canada. When they left only a week later, I thought how strange it was for my heart to feel so empty and full at the same time.  Already. The work of extra children is hard.  Loving someone and letting them go is hard. This won't be an easy thing.

And the Littles keep me hopping. J is busy, I am tired and pregnant and we are preparing for the arrival of the Little Mister.  It's terrible timing to do this.  Picking up a special-needs two year old and a newborn the day after returning from a cross-country trip, with a 12 year old in tow and more guests arriving the next day is seriously terrible timing.  We did it anyway.

Because we are crazy, Peanuts. We are.  But also, there is not ever, ever, Ever an easy way or a convenient time to take your life, shake it up, and turn it upside-down.  There is never a safe angle from which to jump from a cliff and see what happens.  Which means that waiting for the right time and place can mean waiting until the promises we make to ourselves pass us by.

So for the wishy-washy stuff, maybe it's not worth it for the mess it makes.  But for the Solemn Vows? For when we Mean It?  Sometimes we have to climb whatever rocky crags it takes to get there, even if it takes ten years.  And then at the pinnacle, when it's either jump or retreat, just hold on tight to our climbing partners.  And.... Jump!