I wake up too early to a Max cuddled next to me mumbling questions about what I would do if the Black Widow spiders from his “most poisonous animals” book were able to jump from the pages and I ramble some kind of nonsense back and get up, gulp as much coffee as quickly as humanly possible before finding Sam’s hydration pack, getting the power bars, & driving out of town.
A two and a half hour drive (it should have been under two but there are three deer, one black bear, a fox, and my spilled Starbucks coffee along the way). We watch & wait for the clock to count down and with eight minutes and four seconds before the blast of the start gun, Sam has to go to the bathroom and I wonder if he has the same nervous stomach as I do before I do a reading or an interview or any other activity I see as so attached to one of my dreams. And just as he begins to run, (”Go Deathracers!”) the black clouds roll in from the mountains and it’s a total downpour, the atmosphere complete with jagged lightening & its thunderous accompaniment.
I watch the clock and take shelter. As the minutes tick, suddenly craving to catch a glimpse of his face, with my umbrella I leave the crowd and go to a spot, solitary, where I can see the kids round the bend toward the home stretch. My feet are soaked and the daisy Max handed me earlier is drooping behind my ear, tickling my cheek, and then I see him, still running and so strong and it strikes me that eight years ago today - at this very moment in time - I am playing my thousandth game of solitaire, ten days overdue, bargaining with the universe to get this stranger out of my body so that I can meet him. (If I win this one… please. If I win this one…)
In front of me, the sound of his feet on the wet pavement is overshadowed by the look of pure grit and focused determination on his face and as he rounds the final bend and up the last hill and I hear the chanting of the crowd yelling, “Go Deathracer! Go Deathracer!” and despite the promises to him that I won’t cry (but I always do and he knows now that when I say it I am totally lying) I feel things welling up inside of me - on this last day of his being eight years old - after running five extreme kilometers in the pouring rain and with the thunder and lightening and through the mud and up and down the mountains - through all the bells and screams and chants, “Go Deathracer! Go Deathracer!” - with the giant raindrops hiding the prideful tears on my cheeks I hear my own silent cheers for him…
“Go Liferacer!”
Before I finished reading this email I thought to myself “I wonder if Deanna promised Sam she wouldn’t cry? I hope she brought her big glasses!”
But don’t worry, I think overcoming any obstical, life or death, is justification for a few tears!
August 6th, 2007 at 5:57 amWhat a lovely tribute to your son’s racing day Deanna! It brought tears to my eyes too.
August 6th, 2007 at 8:35 amWhat do you mean you said you wouldn’t cry!! That is impossible as I cried from just reading your blog!!!!!!
August 6th, 2007 at 10:07 amI know, I know… I have to tell him I won’t cry (because it’s “totally embarrassing”) and he knows I’m full of it. But rain helps. Or my GIANT sunglasses.
August 6th, 2007 at 7:48 pmAm crying at school now. Thankfully it was not the students that caused the tears, but a combination of your beautiful writing, and amazing son. What a kid!
September 14th, 2007 at 11:01 am