turning into

Turning into a family has been a tremendously deep process. Every second of each day this child is growing closer to us and farther from previous caregivers and his birth mother. My new, more-than-fulltime job is caregiver to Yosef, who reminds me of the Sultan's elephant, my child's outsized sense of himself totally supported and enhanced by our family attachments. Literally so, he grips my hands and fingers as we walk around the property every day. He likes to climb up and down small obstacles like the concerete blocks of the crumbling barn foundation, and the sturdy piles of logs to be bucked, or cedar posts. My son is in control of what he does and how he proceeds through his day. I rarely say no to him, preferring to exist at his service for those hours. When he needs steadying or help, Yosef reaches his open-palmed hand out toward me without even looking, so confident is he that I am there.

Turning into our driveway after a trip to Lake Placid or Plattsburgh, Yosi squeals with delight. He makes the sound to express his joy at three sights: home, papa and mama.

Unrelatedly, today I read an interesting NYT article about great old houses in not-so-great locations, like our stately 1832 riverfront farmhouse ten feet from a state highway. I'll stay close to the road, thanks. In the event of being snowed in or other disaster, we're as safe as one can be in the Adirondacks right here close to the main road.