Today marked our second visit to a fire station since Daniil got home. It's right down the street and I imagine we'll quickly become regulars. Last week, at a station in Dennis, Daniil got to sit up in the cab, the top of the world for a little boy. After the fire fighter gave me a subtle high sign that it was time to climb down, Danya gripped the seat as though it was the last safe harbor in a storm, and I had to resort to tugging and ripping him out. He would've curled up and established a little nest for himself in the fire truck, I'm sure, if given the chance. (Camera still AWOL that day. But there will be zillions of other photo ops in fire trucks, this is one thing I can count on.)
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If heaven is anything like a fire truck, Danya will rest in blissful peace. For me, I hope that heaven is like the Grizzly Lake Trail above Aspen, high up on the alpine tundra on a July day, thousands of wildflowers in bloom. Or perhaps the short but utterly satisfying Lower Hadlock Pond trail on Mt. Desert Island, a narrow path that winds around a resevoir, up and down through pine and deciduous forest, over roots, soft beds of pine needles, lush green moss, dripping with water after a rain. Or perhaps live music in a small venue featuring a kick-ass fiddler, guitarist, banjo, and upright bass player who knows just how to drive the time.
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Don't you love how there is so much heaven right here, right now? Even in the difficult moments with Danill, like when I'm completely exasperated that he says he wants juice or soup and then refuses to eat it, I come to discover that all of the tension can fall away if I just let go of my expectations, find the humor in the situation, and remember to cherish that strong will in my boy. He's simply playing out the entire human situation: craving and aversion, craving and aversion. Ya gotta love it. What else is there to do?
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