“See you tomorrow! We can’t wait to see you!”
When we got home, I was happy to see Betty and her husband Matt on the front steps. The beauty of having your sister live next door to you is that you know you are going to run into her at some point during the day. She jumped up to hug us.
“How’s our little man?” Betty asked. “Are you just over the moon?”
She and I started crying. Ward and I filled them in on the entire meeting.
“Everyone is going to want to hear about this tonight,” she said.
By “everyone” she meant the other members of our apartment triplex. Betty and Matt lived next door to us in the same apartment as Johannah and her four-year-old daughter, Ella. On the other side of them were the McGirrs: Jimmy, Shonë, and their three-year-old daughter, Evvy. We had a common backyard where we ate together at least once a week in the summer and alternated apartments the rest of the year. Daily, there was a steady running back and forth between the apartments to visit.
That night we all met out back for dinner and discussed what was needed to make the little room next to our bedroom into Thorin’s room. We had resisted making the transition until we knew he was moving in because we hadn’t wanted to walk by an empty child’s room for months on end. That night, Ward and I stayed up late talking about Thorin. We were in agreement he was the most-best-greatest kid, ever.
It took almost an hour—mostly on country roads—to get to Sherry’s house. We waited at the top of the stairs to her deck. We waited because we didn’t know how to operate a child gate. On the other side of the gate was Thorin and another boy we knew to be his foster brother, Jacob. Jacob was careening like Mad Max in a little push car. Thorin, who could not yet walk, was crouched on all fours scooting like a little monkey across the wood panels of the deck. Jacob came within an inch of knocking Thorin over. Ward, the soon-to-be-father of Thorin, yelled helplessly from behind the gate.
“Hey, slow down, Buddy . . . um, be careful . . . watch it!”
Sherry stepped onto the deck with a cup of coffee in her hand.
“It’s okay, Ward,” she said dryly. “He’d hit Thorin if he wanted to.”
Seeing Thorin was still dreamlike and surreal. Ward and I looked at each other; this was going to be a long three weeks of visits. I wanted to hold Thorin. I wanted to hug and kiss him, but it seemed best to let him play.
Out of Thorin’s earshot, Sherry said, “He’s trying to figure it out: who both of you are.”
She also filled us in on a few things about Thorin.
“He chokes a lot. Just make the pieces of food small. . . . It’s always a good idea to stay calm when it happens. . . . You’ll learn to understand what he wants. Talking is not the biggest obstacle to understanding him. Be patient. . . . Oh, he loves SpongeBob.”
During our visit, Sherry suggested we take Thorin and Jacob to the pond at the end of her road. Jacob walked alongside Thorin’s stroller, pointing out the landmarks on the way.
“That’s the Harris’s. They have a dog named Grover like from Sesame Street.”
Thorin would nod his head and smile.
Once we got to the pond, both boys wanted their shoes and socks off. Jacob had his off in about two seconds. He then walked into the water.
“Hold up,” I said.
“Jacob, you can stay in if you hold my hand,” Ward added as he kicked off his shoes. Jacob was happy to comply with the offer.
Sitting on a little incline, Thorin pulled at his shoelaces.
“I’ll help, okay? . . . Do you go in the water, too?” I asked.
Jacob answered for him, “Hold both his hands though.”
I put my hands out in front of Thorin. “Ready?”
He grabbed my hands and pulled himself upright. We walked to the edge of the water.
“Do you want to go in?”
Thorin shook his head, no.
We stood together watching Ward and Jacob throw rocks they had pulled from the bottom of the pond. As we were getting ready to leave, I noticed the heel of one of Thorin’s socks was muddy. So did Jacob.
“Sherry’s going to know we had our shoes off,” said Jacob.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You’re not supposed to have your shoes off?”
“No, go in the water,” he volunteered.
“Ward!” I yelled. “Did you hear that?”
“Relax,” he said.
I looked at Thorin. “I suppose you knew, too, right?”
Thorin smiled up at me.
“You’re afraid of Sherry! You’re afraid of Sherry!” sang Jacob.
“Settle down, Jacob,” Ward said then turned to me. “Don’t worry, Kari. We’ll explain exactly what happened.”
Sherry was fine with it all, and Jacob got the talking to, not us.
For two weeks, we would drive after work for an hour to Sherry’s house, bringing dinner for everyone. It seemed like the least we could do since she was giving us a son. During each visit, we observed a little more. Thorin was feisty and curious, but his mood could turn somber quickly; it seemed he was both burdened and unburdened by his fate. It was clear he trusted Sherry, often seeking her help and approval. He loved her; I could see that by how he looked at her.
It was clear she felt the same way toward him. Sherry wasn’t like a used car dealer trying to get a clunker off the lot. She was like a Porsche dealer wondering if we had the goods. Sherry could have put the kibosh on the whole thing if she had determined we weren’t “the ones.” Thankfully we proved worthy to her.
During one of the visits, Ward and I sat close on the couch with Thorin leaning back into both of us. His legs
