Unexpected. That’s it. That’s the word I’ve been searching for but couldn’t place. It just as well have been your middle name, maybe even your first.
Your very existence was unexpected. And every moment since has been unexpected. Wether it be a disaster or a blessing. Every one, bringing its own uniqueness, that has become you.
The other day I watched you on the sidewalk. I talked you through how to draw a sun, you named the colors as you went, and then you took each piece of chalk, walked to a new spot, and placed each one perfectly in a row. Constantly looking for my approval of your masterpiece. I was amazed by you that day. Thinking how amazing it is that you start preschool soon. Equally terrified to let you venture somewhere new without your security blanket stand-in, aka Mama, along.
I tried to put into words what was so amazing. But I couldn’t. Because it wasn’t any one thing. It was everything. It’s everything about you that I never expected, that unexpectedly sneaks up, and catches me off guard.
You are so unexpectedly you. The boy I wasn’t sure you would ever have the chance to be. You lead me on fast chases through the store, the park, the backyard, the clinic, well pretty much every where. You strike with your Tietel Tornado in split seconds of time, that leave horrific destruction for days, sometimes weeks at a time. You soften the blow with gentle kisses and tight squeezing hugs. You count to 13 and recite your ABCs with ease. Your night time prayers to Jesus are the sweetest sound. You impress everyone when you rattle off your birthday, and you can now spell your last name flawlessly. You crank out a ball better than your sister. And your left handed pitch is going places. Your Houdini moves as of late are proving quite impressive and equally terrifying, the nurses thought your skills as an infant were stellar.
You are never what anyone expects, neither good nor bad. When they look at you, they see a little boy. That’s all. They wouldn’t expect the unexpected from you. They wouldn’t expect that in your medical file lie a pile of issues and concerns. They wouldn’t expect that your medication list is over 20 long. They wouldn’t expect that on your chest is a long scar, and not from one, but three open heart surgeries. Even the x-ray tech doesn’t expect to find pieces of metal inside your body (I still don’t tell them until after they get all excited and worried about it). They wouldn’t expect that in that giant binder I carry around, is your life. They wouldn’t expect that you recently received “disability certification”. You are the definition of not defining a book by its cover. The cover is impressive, what’s inside is something you’d never expect.
You are the unexpected.
Inside that cover is a little boy who fights very hard to be a little boy. The only routine in your life, revolves around medical procedures. When something unexpected happens to you, you roll with it. Your book is being written with never ending suspense, thrills, drama, and love. It’s one of those books that takes a twist in every chapter and never ends how you expect it to. Those are the best kind.
I will expect however, that you continue to teach me how to live without expectations. Other than that, I will expect nothing but the unexpected from you, and your insane ability to melt me with a single smile or silly face.