I'm pretty sure this should be a celebration for John and I. We've kept him alive 17 years! At seventeen he has really changed. One of the biggest changes has been his weight and height. He has grown! He's no longer shorter than Lona, in fact he's a couple of inches taller than her. He's over 100 lbs! Something that is worth celebrating. And he eats, constantly. He is taking a health class at the high school (required) and he came home with the realization of how much he actually eats. He has breakfast, then snacks through out the whole day at school on his lunch. After school he has a snack, then dinner, then another snack before bed. I can't keep milk and cereal in the house. Every few days I have to buy both and he drinks lactose free milk! He still loves puns and makes them as often as possible to the sadness of his friends. Speaking of friends, he has made some really good friends this last year. They seem comfortable here and often come over and wait for him to get home. One day I was working on photos when I heard the door open. It was after school and I expected it to be Job since Lona was still at soccer. Nope, it was one of his friends. He just plopped down on the couch to wait for Job to come home. Hilarious. This group really brings Job out of his shell. They make him go to football games and dances. They grab him to play soccer at the soccer field. They come over to watch soccer games on TV. It is just expected. He seems to laugh a lot and is more active socially which we are so happy about. In the past we've had to push him a bit, but this year we aren't the ones pushing so it's easier. Another thing that has changed is his interests. No longer are the days working on Legos. I think they were a stress reliever for him. Now he's into pool, pinnochle, and magic tricks. It seems most nights he asks if we can play pinnochle. We love you Job and are enjoying your years in high school.
Somehow we stumbled onto a team through association and we found ourselves at a tournament. I watched wondering, is this for us, for him? The boys looked like men, I didn't see that in him. I saw him sprint, his little skinny legs stretched out in a race against these legs that doubled in size compared to his. I watched as the boys, men really, went shoulder to shoulder, jostling, pushing against each other. I was used to another type of soccer. A type of soccer that was not as physical but more mental. I was used to calls being made when a player was on the ground. This type of soccer wasn't like that. There were slide tackles and out right shoves, jerseys being pulled, and almost football tackles. It was a shock. Was I ready? I wasn't sure but I bit my tongue, put my camera to my eye and distanced myself from the action. I needed that space that my camera provided. I wasn't sure if this was for us. I held my breath as he went on and off the pitch and I braced for a season to come.
John has kept his whitewater kayak for 25 plus years. The last five, I've begged him to do something with it. It has been collecting green growth on it from just sitting against the side of the house. However Job has got it into his head that he wants to kayak a river in it. Last summer he put it in the pool and just paddled around and this summer he worked on the Eskimo roll. Then he went down the South Fork with John and Josh. Now it was time to test him on something a little harder. It was time for the North Fork of the Nooksack. I used to run shuttle for John when he was kayaking in college and after we were married and so it was natural for me to run the shuttle for both of my men. My only criteria was that John would bring back my baby alive. We pulled into the parking lot of the put in and the gate was closed and locked. They hiked their kayaks down to the river, came back for their gear and returned to the water, dog leading the way. They pushed off and started down the river with the dog panicking as he tried to run and swim after them. They paddled to shore so that I could get the dog under control. He didn't want to be left. Then it was just the dog and I at the river's edge. He kept looking down stream, knowing that's where his pack went. I realized that we needed to head to the take out. I hoped that I could spot them along the way but I couldn't. I found the take out and had to drag the dog down the steep river bank. He hated it and found a small spot to curl up and wait. After about 45 minutes of waiting at the take out, I spotted them coming around the river bend. John in the lead and Job following. Job caught up, planned his path around the boulders, and pulled into the eddie where I sat. We hauled the kayaks up the bank, they stripped off their gear and back into the truck we went. That's when I heard about the times he went swimming, meaning the kayak flipped over and he was upside down in the river. This happened not once but 3 times! I think it installed a little healthy fear of the river in that boy.
I pull up with Lona decked out in her dama dress and too small size shoes and drop her off in front of the church. She's been practicing all summer for this and the palest girl in the group. We were introduce to a culture that I didn't really know anything about. I found a parking spot, and went into the church. I had no idea where to sit. I looked around and after asking found a place, in the middle, not too close to the front, not too far back. The wooden pew empty except for me. The church filled. My pew remained empty except for me. There were people standing along the sides and I wondered, would anyone sit next to me? Was I invading this right of passage? Finally some slid in at the other end of the pew and then another family sat down, yet there was a space between me and them. I smiled and tried to look inviting, friendly but no one knew me. I was alone here. The music started, a mariachi band, at the front and the alter kids came in, followed by the priest. The ceremony started, the party filed in, the damas and their escorts, the parents, the god-parents, the Quincenera. The whole ceremony was in Spanish, the readings, the songs, the message. I sat thinking, trying to pick out words that I might recognize, watching the people. It was an amazing experience. The party walked out of the church and it was over. I was excused and the next phase of the day was about to start, the reception. I drove home and picked up my husband. We drove to the reception hall to wait for the party to arrive. We walked into this vast space that was decorated as for a wedding. There were lights and fabric draped from the ceiling, the chairs were cover in white fabric tied with pink bows, the entry way was strung with lights, sheer fabric and flowers. The mariachi band was setting up. We made our way over to a table and asked if we might sit down only to be told that that table was strictly for the father's coworkers. Again I wondered was I invading this right of passage, yet I had been invited, the whole family was invited. We found a spot near the dance floor so that we could see the party as they arrived. People started to fill the reception hall and the food was served buffet style. It was delicious, authentic, festive. The keg was tapped and John was invited to have a glass. The party arrived in a "party" bus as they disembarked they made their entrance into the building as people clapped. There was a set program that it seemed everyone expected and knew. They all sang the songs, knew all the lyrics. We watched. There was a last dance with a doll, I think to say good bye to her childhood. The parents removed her flat shoes and place high heels on her feet. There was another entrance, a dance with the father. A choreographed dance in the dresses, a waltz. There were candles to be lit, and thank yous to be said. I was amazed. More choreographed dancing and then the party began. The members of the party danced and then they went to the spectators pulling them onto the floor to signal the time for everyone to dance. I danced and laughed. John was pulled to the floor by Lona. More beer was drunk, the keg or kegs were long gone and people brought out their own stash. The mariachi band had left and the DJ came on. The songs seemed to run from one to the next without the fading in or out. We danced, we watched. I marveled. The ladies in their stilettos, the men in their jeans and boots, the grace that was on the dance floor and how everyone danced. They would glide out and back when they were done, or wanted a break or a drink. At one point the current teenage songs were played and there were only five or six kids on the dance floor. As soon as the spanish music started again, there were at least a hundred people of all ages on the dance floor. Glow sticks were handed out until there were none left. A kid came by asking were to get one and I slipped mine off my wrist handing it to him. Others came up and John handed his over. They laughed and giggled and we continued dancing. At midnight the party was still going strong and I pulled my daughter aside saying it was time to go. She could have stayed and danced until the wee hours of the morning but it was time. Saying our goodbyes we drove home, amazed and tired. An experience that was incredible.