sweet little boy

OK, OK, I'm sleeping better, finally, with much thanks for kind thoughts and prayers and a good talking-to from my sister Rose (who will get her fair share of sleepless nights come Jan. 30-WAHOO!) and encouragement from Becky C and the hope + help of the Barlow clan. Still, this little dragonfly-boy of mine swoops me up into the clouds of "Wow" and back to the still places in the grass where I have no answers.

A remark from an "easy" day--Shane & I sat at dinner, planning our evening routine. I'd read to YoYo the night before, but Shane hadn't gotten any sleep (long story involving insomniac me and an Ambien and subsequent hallucinations and him staying up to make sure I didn't take off naked down the road with the map of Canada, which I was sure was an angry crowd in a bar trying to eat Greenland while China fell on some man carrying groceries). Seriously, think twice, people, before hanging a world map in your bedroom. And there are sooooo many reasons that ceiling fans create bad, bad feng shui when placed over a bed.

ANYWAY, I offered to put YoYo to bed for the second night in a row, so Shane could slide off to bed. YoYo put his hand up to signal a pause. "Mama read to YoYo last night, Mama can read to YoYo tomorrow night, tonight is Baba's turn. Share, Mama."

Yesterday morning, it was not so much laughter. YoYo woke up crying, asking for his friend Lo Fei from the foster home. Shane was finally able to soothe him, and we had an uneventful morning. Shane left for school, and at naptime, YoYo asked, "Where is Lo Fei?" "At Lo Fei's house," I answered. "Ahhh, where is Qing Qing?" "At Qing Qing's house," I answered. This went on, with mostly ayis in question, but some children, too--Zi Ping, Mah Ling, Xiao Jing, and then I explained that just like YoYo lives in YoYo's house with YoYo's Mama and Baba, now Zhi Jing lives in her house with her Mama and Baba, and Zi Jiang will live in his house with his Mama and Baba, and Hai He will live with his Mama and Baba. He nodded, and replied, "Zhi Jing is in Zhi Jing's room, Zi Jiang is in Zi Jiang's room, Hai He is in Hai He's room, YoYo is in YoYo's room." My breath caught when he added, "And Qing Qing and Mah Ling and Zi Ping and Xiao Jing Jie Jie are all at Lo Fei's house?"

"Well, yes. They are."

"YoYo can see them?"

Four words he can now master in English well enough to string together with a simplicity that smites my heart. God help me to love this little one well, so even amidst such profound loss he remembers being deeply loved. What on earth can I tell him?

"We can see their pictures. Would YoYo like to see their pictures?"

"YES! YEAHHHHHH!!!" And thus begins the cutest dance with little fists half-pumping the air, "We'll see the pictures, we'll see the pictures, YoYo will see the pictures and Gou Gou and Mama and Jie Jie, yeahhhhh!"

For now, it is enough for him, and I walk to the living room fighting tears to retrieve the most beautiful gift, the square pale blue scrapbook filled to brimming with the love of volunteers I may not meet and ones who avoided my eyes crying when we parted in Beijing. The scrapbook holding his past and by paradox, his future, his friends and ayis, a letter from someone Very Important who wrote the story of his birth and journey to the foster home, and so many photos. We look at this for a half-hour, and I'm desperately thankful that I have seen these little faces of his friends and can share knowing them with him. I cannot imagine how much trust that builds between us, that he knows when I speak of Hai He and point to his sweet silly smile and the fish on his head that Mama knows Hai He and Mama has played with Hai He and YoYo together. Someday my Little Prince may not be content to only look at pictures and remember that time, but for now I will let it last as long as he needs it to and whenever he needs it, too. I know, too, what I will grab on the way out of the door if fire or lightning strikes, and what will join us in the bathtub if tornado comes, and what will be under my arm the next time I sprint 12 flights of stairs in an earthquake...

We took a nap together, a little later than most afternoons, holding hands and snuggling.