As I wait in the quiet for them to return, I thought about their day. Wade must have been quite content to spend the day with his father - accruing three hours in the car listening to rock-n-roll music and sports talk radio. In the middle of the thought, I smirk because when Wade is in the car with Joey there's never time to listen to the radio. He talks to Joey as if he has to cram 17 years into the hours he has with his dad. His stream-of-consciousness never misses an opportunity to explore every thought that walks across his brain. When his teenage machismo reaches a height that just asks to be challenged, Joey verbally volleys back at the boy and the alpha male battle continues.
Eventually Wade's deep laughter will ring out and the roots of a deep bond that forms between father and son over sports talk radio and the Nickelback Pandora station run deeper still.
I have said before, I don't know why I got to be the mother to two amazing children. I do know I married well. This man who is often my favorite perpetual eighth grader grew up with an absent father at best. Yet, he has been ever present in the lives of his own children enveloping them in burly arms and family memories. He is the fun parent; he is El Padre; he is Daddy to his baby girl and Dad to our boy.
God grew him strong long before I met Joe, and it's his strength of character that first caught my eye. That he pours that strength into our children is a blessing; that he holds me up while he is drowning is proof that "Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." (Emily Bronte)