To Sing Frogs Chapter 14a

Amy and John with Cory, Jack, Steve and Mike moments after we first met Jack.

Chapter 14

 

Who Would This Little Boy Be?

 

A policeman walked to the side of the road slightly waving a stick with a four-inch-round red reflector. “Your police have fairy wands?” I asked Stass jokingly.

“He’s signaling someone to stop.”

“Speeding?”

“Maybe. They have radar guns. It might just be a random inspection. As much as I drive I get pulled over about once a month.”

“Drunk driving checks?”

“What? No…? What?”

“Are they checking for drunk drivers?”

“Why? No. Checking for documents.”

“Driver’s license, you mean?”

“Yes. I guess. Any documents. Mostly identification. Everybody here carries a domestic passport with them at all times. They have to show it to the police if they ask for it.”

“You ever get tickets?”

“What, here? Only idiots get tickets here. The police are here every day checking. Everybody gets tickets sometimes, in random places, but only stupid people get tickets here.”

“Do you have to pull over?”

“No. I think he’s watching someone else. Don’t look at him.”

Avoid eye contact. Did that still work in Russia? It must or Stass wouldn’t have said that. I looked to the other side of the road and we continued past without changing our speed in the least. A car in the lane next to us and half a length back pulled off the side of the road next to the waiting officer. I guess he didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to look at the cop.

Anya wasn’t with us. She was headed to court for the finalization of another adoption while Stass took us to Ussuriysk to meet Kirrill. The city was about two hours north of our hotel by car.

Amy sat quietly in the back seat while I rode shotgun and talked to Stass. I was glad to be talking. Sitting quietly and thinking isn’t pleasant when all of your thoughts revolve around leaving your future children behind. Frustration snowballs when you consider the third-world setting where they will remain—half a world away—for an unspecified amount of time.

After half-an-hour I looked back. Amy had succumbed to jetlag. It wasn’t much later before I did the same. I hope it wasn’t in the middle of a conversation with Stass but it could have been. Oh well, he was used to transporting people with jetlag. I’m sure it happened all the time. I was dreaming about meeting Jack when I woke up. Stass didn’t notice I had woken so I closed my eyes again wanting to savor the memory.

We adopted Jack four months before we left our Utah home in the rearview and moved to Michigan. Las Vegas was only four hundred miles away so Amy and I decided to drive and to make it a family event.

Our agent had been delayed so we continued to wait in the lobby with another employee who had been asked to rush to the office and let us in. Maybe it was just as well. Anticipation enhances the experience and makes the reward so much more appreciated. Amy sat with her hands clasped together on her lap while she leaned anxiously over her bent knees. Six-year-old Mike half sat, half stood against the couch. Cory was four. He sat with feet dangling. Two year old Stephen sat lay dejected with his head propped up against the back of the couch while his ankles hung off the edge. The two-year old’s white downy hair floated up in the air and emitted static sparks against the upholstery whenever he moved his head. We were approached from behind and Jack was placed in Amy’s arms before she could stand. The boys exploded from the couch. It’s amazing how a new member can breathe life into a family. I stood behind my sons with hands on Mike and Cory’s shoulders while Amy unwrapped Jack from his blanket. It was a wonderful recollection. Had Jack been my only child I wouldn’t have known it could have been something more.

Why? Maybe it wasn’t my fault.

 

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