in the soft chill of last february we’d sit flannelled-up before the pc and rhapsodize over the kids on the waiting child page: she’s got a smile that could melt you like july, this one, and doesn’t that boy look so brave and tender? and i wished they could all be ours for the joy of them, and i’d high-five the air when one by one their photos wore the happy banner: i have a family!
and there was one little guy we’d been praying long for, week after week the small circle of his face still there. and i’d stretch drowsy between the sheets at night still thinking of him, until i began to hope that maybe the family he’s waiting for is ours. that we’ve been waiting for him.
so mid-march we received his file, and we researched and answered long pages of essay questions and interviewed on the phone and closed our eyes tight and hoped. and weeks later the committee met to decide that yes, we would be a good family for him, and i sank back against the wall and wept with relief, surprised by how soon i loved this child.
we thought he’d be home by late summer, early fall. but sometimes things stall out, sputter and cough and leave you dusty on the side of the road thumbing a ride back to hope.
so we’ve been loving our boy long distance for a year now. and you’d think by this point i’d know better, but still every monday i think this could be the week, and still every weekday i think this could be the day, the one where we hear news of the next step to becoming family. and each night the minute hand hits eight pm and punctures my hope, but never mind, tomorrow i’ll wake brimming with the vibrant stuff again.
and all the while our hearts stretch eight thousand miles thin, a taxing feat even for the best of us. but we keep on.
'cause i tell you what: one of these days is going to be the day.