joy, revisited.

once upon a time, a boy waited at a window for his friend.  

and his little sister wandered the driveway, perhaps somewhat aware that she was waiting for something, perhaps clued into the excited energy that vibrated through her home.

finally, the guests came, and the moment it happened and for many moments thereafter, it was joy.  pure, simple, innocent joy.

                         

joy at the children's museum, joy snuggled in bed watching caillou, 

joy eating bowl after bowl of popcorn, joy at the beach on a cold, windy day. 

joy in the forest, joy at the park, joy in those tiny attic crawl spaces with a simple thomas lantern. 

joy eating sticky ice cream sandwiches on a warm spring night, 

joy watching quinn and petey do the hot dog dance 

(while secretly imagining the first dance at their wedding), 

joy seeing frozen, and listening to songs from frozen, and

joy watching anne and adam act out scenes as their favorite frozen princesses. 

joy watching naked petey scale the childproof gates in one breath, 

and pet bean so gently and with such tenderness in the next.

joy when the sun went down, and tiny voices faded into sleep, and tired grown-ups stayed up anyway.  

joy because the talk was never small, 

and because most of what was understood needn't be spoken anyway.  

joy because we existed in the moment, all the moments, and savored each and every one.

that's part of the beauty of this friendship of ours, this star-crossed union of our families: 

when we're together, we know it's time to pay attention. we know this is the good stuff, the real stuff.  the stuff that makes us better and happier and fuller.  

anne and i figured that out years ago.

 and will and adam are well on their way to the same conclusion.