All Together Now

I had to add this wonderful story to my blog. I worked with this guy on a independent film. He is wonderful. This actually came from his blog and I hope he doesn't get upset that I'm posting it on mine. This is beautiful. Warms my heart. Gives me hope that I will have the kind of happiness they are so blessed to have :) Happy Reading.

All Together Now
She's been there. When I've been here. I've been there. And they've been here. We've been apart too much in this era.

So what do we do when Rebecca comes back from a trip to Seattle after being away from each other for too many days?

We knock her down while forcing her to play soccer with us.

After she professed that she's too old to fall down and after she tried to quit the game, I urged her to continue and said that, on the contrary, she fell down really well. "You fell well," I think I said.

It's true. People should fall down from time to time. It's good practice for advancing age.

There's nothing that I enjoy more in this life. It's the greatest thing I've ever seen.

When Rebecca laughs so hard that she cries.

She's a reserved, quiet person. Those who know her best can attest. It's not difficult to get her to smile. To chuckle. But it takes a special person, or event, to get her to laugh, really laugh.

She tries to hold back. I don't know why. She'll even cover her mouth. Why she just won't let it burst out immediately, I can't say. She'll build it up like a beaver dam. Her eyes fill up and her hand can't stifle the sound.

I'm smiling just thinking about the sight. When the dam bursts. It looks like she's crying. She can't speak. Her face turns a different color.

It happened yesterday when we were on a long hike in Rock Creek Park. After consulting a map we aimed to park at Picnic Area 7. We passed Area 6, then we same upon Area 8. How'd we miss 7? Wound up parking at Area 9, which was fine. That's where we had the soccer game and the tumble and the recovery. Then we went on our hike, avoiding horse poop, throwing rocks, jumping logs, not avoiding horse poop.

We came up on a parking lot that was fenced off with a portable trailer guarding the entrance. It was between Picnic Area 6 and 8. "Oh. That must been where Area 7 is," I remarked. And our youngest boy said something that was somewhat muffled. He apparently said, "That's why we couldn't find it."

But I thought...I actually thought...he said, "Asshole couldn't find it."

That got a big laugh from the boys...and a little laugh from Rebecca. She held back because she was a bit appalled that our standards have sunk so low with our children that we'll not only say words like asshole...we'll allow them to say it...within reason. Just in front of us...strictly limited use...and not in public...or in front of their grandparents.

She goes away for a few days and behold...rationalized linguistic havoc in her own family.

That led to a whole discussion about why I thought my own son had called me asshole. Which, of course, he didn't. But that's what I thought I heard. It led to further discussion, as we hiked along, that maybe I wasn't the asshole, but somebody else was. And that led to more interpretations as to what was actually said. And accusations. Like...you couldn't find your asshole if you tried. Or why are you even looking for somebody's asshole. Then I remarked that maybe what was originally intended was: "Asshole (colon): couldn't find it."

We kept walking a few steps, but we had left someone behind. I turned and there was Rebecca, stopped on the trail. The most wonderful thing I've ever seen, and I've seen Paris at night, Saturn and its moons, Monument Valley, the Grand Canyon.

She's laughing so hard that she's crying.