Garret sees the wind in the leaves that dance. He looks at it the way a child gapes in wonder at fireworks. His hands are flapping in excitement. He utters a squeal of delight. His papa asks him, " Are you happy Garret?" "Apee," he replies.
A moment later a mother and a child approaches coming from around the grounds from their run. The hospital grounds where we usually spend afternoons in overlooks the Ormoc city harbor. Ships are docked. The girl, a little older than Garret, asks her mother, "I see a big boat, Ma. It usually isn't there. Why is it there?" Her mother answers something I cannot hear anymore but they resume their conversation.
The scene that unfolded before me made me smile. How wonderful it is for them to spend the afternoon together, this parent and child. How even more wonderful it is that they were conversing. No smart phones or tablets in sight. It didn't even matter what they were talking about, I thought. And then, a kind of wistfulness took over me for a moment. "I wish I could have that." I caught myself. I paused in my thoughts and said to myself. "I am human. And it is okay for me to want this, a normal conversation with my child."
I take a deep breath and return my gaze to my two boys. Garret continues to bask in the view of Indian trees swaying in the wind. There is only calm and peace embracing him. He then hums a piece from his classical playlist in perfect pitch. I hum with him. He pauses as I hummed off-key. Then he proceeds to hum again. I smile to my heart's content.
Morgan a few feet away tears leaves. I call him and he immediately looks in my direction. His cheeks puffy and pink. He seems annoyed that I disturbed his tearing. I tell him, "it's time to go home now, Morgan." He immediately complies holding my hand. We walk to our truck. On the drive home he looks at me and grins.
This is what we have. This is our conversation. Clearly a more different, quieter one than what other families have. Garret sings. I sing with him. Garret says, "Apee." I chime in, "Happy boy!" Garret squeals. I grin back. Morgan looks at me, touches my cheek and smiles. I affirm his gesture and say, "Yes, my love, Morgan is happy too?" In the moments of silence, Andro and I talk, whether it's during one of our joy rides or an afternoon at the grounds such as today. We fall silent every now and then and remain in our own thoughts. Then we speak if we feel the need to. Our conversation parallel our boys'-- Only the very necessary, only things that matter.
This is what we have. What we have right now is what we need. And this right here is beautiful beyond words, beyond "normal conversation." How abundantly blessed we are.