Today, I’m having a cup of sweet chai as that’s what I used to drink with Hope when we were kids together. Hope, Laura (my twin), and I would call ourselves Dare Devils 1, 2, and 3. We’d challenge each other to do new things. We’d try to fly off the chicken coop roof with pillow cases for parachutes. We’d plan sleep outs in car pits, tree houses, or on the shelf in the wood shop. We’d powder the cement hallway floors and slide with our stocking feet or haul cardboard out to the hill and slide down the dry grass as fast as we could go.
One of our favorite adventures was the swing that Dad put up in the huge avocado tree. That tree was so tall that even Dad couldn’t reach the first branch from the ground. We would find holes in the bark for footholds and grab onto vines that grew around the tree like a gnarly sweater. We’d climb up to the ledge that was wide enough to fit a good 6 people and wait there for a friend to pass the swing up to us. Then we’d jump on and sail out of that tree, turning the swing on the way back so the empty rope would be available for the next person to jump and join us. I still remember the joyful fear of leaping off that ledge, the roughness of the rope as I caught it, the thrill of the upswing on the other side. I remember the look of determination on Hope’s face as she leapt from the tree to join me on the swing. You get to know someone when you jump out of trees with them.
On the day I met Hope’s two siblings, I thought Amy was the oldest because Andrew was quite a bit shorter and didn’t talk as clearly. Hope told me that Andrew just seemed younger because he had Down Syndrome but that he was the most amazing brother ever . She said this last part a bit fiercely with her hand on her hip as if daring me to challenge her. I knew better – this was Hope after all. It’s funny how a moment that I believed insignificant at the time would still be so clear in my mind. I can feel the sun reflecting off the tennis court we were standing on. I can see the breeze blowing Amy’s straight, fine, brown hair. I can picture Andrew’s almond eyes and freckles.
Now I’m the one with the metaphorical hand on my hip. I find myself daring anyone to doubt that Seth, our youngest who has Down Syndrome, is any less than amazing. You should meet us for coffee some morning and you’ll find that it’s true. Not that we weren’t thrown for a loop at Seth’s arrival – but that story will take more than this cup of chai to tell. For now, I’ll just take one more sip then take the leap and swing out on a new adventure with Hope.