Seeing Brennan

{written a few weeks ago}

The first thing I told Talmage this morning was that he was going to see Brennan today. He hopped off that couch with his eyes full of hope and screamed, hands raised triumphantly in the air, "I'm going to see Brennan today? I'm going home? We're finally going home?"

The words stung. Because that home right next to Brennan's where T and Evie so badly want to return is no longer ours. We're all missing our Stanford family something fierce these days.

Talmage talks about it all the time, Evie too. Just a few days ago Everett told me, "I want go our home." And we were sitting in my parent's living room (aka, our every summer home) so I was confused. Until I realized he meant he wanted to go back to Palo Alto. But again, the new residents on Thoburn Court probably wouldn't appreciate us barging through their, I mean our, I mean their front door.

And so it was no wonder when I told Talmage that Brennan was coming to visit us I got such a fabulous reaction. Sure, he was slightly deflated when he learned that we weren't going back to Stanford for the reunion, but he was also very excited.

We had a lovely lunch. And by lovely, I mean the best cheeseburger, animal style, that In 'N Out had to offer. Brady chased the big boys around the outside tables until all of them were dripping with Sacramento Valley sweat and I cuddled that Connor-baby and tried to suck all the goodness out of dear Natania. I knew our time was short, but I wanted to be selfish and keep them to myself, forever even (in a not-stalkerish sort of way!)

But of course the inevitable happened--they had to leave. I felt the tears well up in my eyes and Evie said, "I no want dem weave," but that Talmage, he outstaged us all. First came the tears, big crocodiles in his dark brown eyes. Then came the sobs--deep, soulful and sincere. And then his body just went limp. He couldn't walk, I couldn't hold him, he just cried and screamed and flailed his body on the hot asphalt. Bless Brady for helping us to the car, and telling T that he was going to try and come visit us in New York. On the ride home, in between massive sobs, Talmage kept saying, "Did you hear Brady Mom? I fink they are going to visit us. We're going to see them again Mom." And inside I felt my heart crumbling just a little. Because although just a few tears left my eyes my insides wanted to throw a little tantrum as well. I guess we're not all that different, me and T.

I was his sounding board all the way home--he misses his home, his friends, and even his aircraft carrier that is in some box on it's way to the city, he told me. And I told him I totally understood, because I do, and I want him to know that those feelings are normal and natural and frankly, beautiful.

So we had a great conversation that was well beyond his years about life. Oh, life. It's so full of tragedy and joy, despair and elation--and what T is learning is that they come all together, packaged wildly in the same second even. Because just after he was missing his friends deep down to his soul he ate milk shakes with his Mema and declared it the "best day ever." And then we read a new book about New York City and he excitedly showed me the Natural History Museum on the map, and talked about how he can't wait to ride the subway again. "But I will still miss my friends," he said. So we decided we'd print out pictures of our dearest and hang them by his new bunk bed. And I bet before long some pictures of new friends will be joining the old ones. It's bittersweet, with an emphasis on the sweet. Although we can see the joy and goodness without overlooking the bitter. Life is confusing and complicated, and life is darn beautiful.

Hopefully these boys are learning resilience (and are not being scarred for life), and hopefully we'll all be feeling settled soon.