Eight years ago Chris and Ruby met for the first time. She was two and a half. He was thirty-six, and the simple fact is, he never stood a chance. Before Ruby, Chris had every reason to believe he knew who he was and where he was going. He was, for all intents and purposes, a grown man. He had a career, a community, and five surfboards — which, as anyone could plainly see, was all he really needed in this life.
It was probably true, too, until Peyton turned up again, just like a bad penny. Chris had heard she was in town, and decided he wanted to see her again. Perhaps he was hoping to see that he had romanticized her, built her up to be more than she was, or that she had moved on. Then he, too, could put away any lingering feelings for her and do the same. Whatever it was and whatever he hoped, what he had not anticipated was meeting Ruby.
Ruby orbited Peyton like a small moon. As a little girl she was all eyes, motion, downy hair, and a strong gravitational pull. I think of photographs from the day Ruby learned to walk, barefoot in thick grass, surrounded by Peyton’s family. Ruby was the center of her own personal solar system. Moving back and forth among them, her small body pitched precariously forward, she ricocheted off paired-up knees. Each time she reached her destination she was praised, turned, and aimed in a new direction. Ruby mastered the balance needed for walking that afternoon, encircled by more love than many who walk this world for years.
When Christopher met up with Peyton, he met Ruby, too. They decided to get together the next day for a longer visit and made plans to go to the beach. The three of them spent the afternoon playing in the sand, soaking up sun, and slathering SPF 50 on Ruby. They built sand castles and played at the water’s edge. Chris willingly filled his pockets and shared his towel with every tiny shell, or bits of shell, Ruby selected, sorted, and treated like a matchless treasure to bring home. After a nearly sand-free lunch, Chris helped give Ruby a bath and get her ready for bed. Somewhere between the SPF 50 and helping Peyton tuck Ruby into bed that night Chris’s found his heart was now in double-jeopardy.
The afternoon had allowed Peyton and Chris to see each other through a new lens. As adults who were capable of balancing the needs of others against their own and I believe this set the stage for their next visit, and the one after that. Now, you, I, and Peyton know that one good day with a toddler does not a parent make, but despite the many challenges that would come, from the beginning, Ruby knew better.
These days Ruby’s caramel colored hair might be momentarily captured by a head band. She is ungainly, persistent, insightful, and sees the world through astonishingly beautiful eyes, which take in every detail. Well, every detail apart from her shoes, which she still can’t find in the front hall, or the plate that Chris has asked her to clear to the kitchen counter. She might have missed her lunch box in Peyton’s back seat, which she is still pretty sure she brought in from the car.
However, this is small stuff, particularly when understood in context of what is observed. Ruby sees kindness in places easily overlooked by others. When necessary, she envisions whole worlds for herself and for us. Are you in need of a quick vacation? Ask her about Peru, you will understand what I mean. As a little girl Ruby often described seeing angels. Not specifically beings with wings or illuminated by white light, but beings that could only exist as angels.
I guess the last might be considered as imaginative versus perceptive, but there is no question that when Ruby and Chris met she recognized him for who he was, or was becoming – a parent. Sixteen months and 4, 972 miles later (as Chris tells it) he arrived in Alaska. This time Ruby put it to him - will you be my Daddy now? I don’t actually have the particulars on Chris’s response, but I do know that Ruby treated him as a Daddy. Identified him as hers, and when it was not as straight forward as all that for the other adults, she simply trusted that he would eventually find a way to put it all-to-rights.
May 28, 2009 was life as usual at Ruby’s house. Ruby’s little brother, Noa, wanting her attention, a full day of school, friends, and cheerleader practice. She did chores, finished homework, and listened to a chapter of Harry Potter before going to bed. Save one detail. Chris heard from a family friend, Jill, whose specialties include family law. She was calling to let him know the adoption paperwork was finalized and that at last he could call Ruby his own.
Happy Gotcha Day Christopher
