Falling

I vividly recall falling in love with the girl who would become my wife. All those years ago, I thought I knew something about love, but time has taught me otherwise.

‘Falling in love’ is an interesting phrase. Until I met her, I never fully got the falling part. I understood that love was a powerful, life-sustaining force, but all that falling stuff eluded me. It wasn’t until I realized how helpless I was in controlling my feelings for this dark-haired cutie, that the mental fog finally started to burn off.

I tried to keep it from happening, but the physics of the heart defied my best efforts.

I remember thinking I better enjoy this falling thing, because it seemed to be such a once-in-a-lifetime thing. How could it not be? She was (and still is) the one, so how could anything or anyone compare? No way.

After a while, a wrinkled, pink, fuzzy-headed little person came to our house to live. We had a baby. We had a baby Jenny (a.k.a. JennyPooh, Jenn, JP, Bahoochi... et. al). She was tiny, noisy and vulnerable, but we decided we should keep her around.

I remember getting up in the middle of the night just to see if she was still breathing.

It was during one of these late-night wanderings that I realized—once again—I was falling. Damn. That caught me off guard. I’d put the ‘falling in love’ thing away and knew I’d never need to dust it off again. Wrong.

Two more tiny, wrinkled, little people wandered into my life over the next few years. The same little scenario played itself out with each of them. At least I knew what to expect when each arrived.

It was a little different with a son, Chris (professionally known as Bubba, the Bub', Bubba Jack and of course, BoyChaos), but not enough to mention. He peed on me more than his sisters, but all-in-all, it was the whole free-falling thing all over again.

As the youngest of my children, Becky, (often known by her stage names BeckyBoo, Beek, Boo, Beekles, and most recently, Mommy) learned to crawl, and then walk, I came to the painful understanding she wouldn’t be followed by any more little people, showing up, luggage-less, at our door. I also understood that I’d fallen in love four times, and certainly it was time to retire this tender emotion—this emotion which had so gently guided my heart to theirs.

I was right. For years, people wandered into and out of my life, none of whom tripped the ‘falling’ button.

I had fallen in love with the four most important and precious people in my life. I was acutely thankful for the texture and joy they had bought into my life, and quietly knew my ‘falling’ days were behind me.

Riley changed all that.

What an amazing thing, when your child carefully hands you their child, for the very first time.

I delicately accepted my youngest daughter’s daughter, and looking down at that tiny, pink, fuzzy-headed little person, once again, I felt myself falling into a place which even today, I cannot define.

The years have brought me my share of painful loss and amazing joy. Three little men joined Riley, and later, a little girl was born to my big girl. That's four more free-falls.

My life has taught me two undeniable truths. The first is that I am usually wrong. The second is that the sensation of falling in love is both vastly under-rated and readily accessible to those who would seek it.