Member-only story
Neighborhood Basketball
I spent some time recently watching my son shoot baskets with the girl across the street. That in itself seems simple enough. But as with most of life, there is so much more.
I could tell you about how our son is new to us. Not brand new. He’s 8, but he’s only been with us for 7 months. He’s only been home for 6 months. We adopted him from China this year. Just the fact that he’s here and has the opportunity to go across the street, talk and play with the girl across the street is remarkable.
And then, of course, is the whole story of the adoption journey itself — at least our side of it; we don’t even fully know our son’s side yet. Someday, when language comes more easily for him, I’m hoping we’ll learn about what life without a family was like for him.
But this is just about a simple game of shooting baskets. Because, you see, I didn’t go and play with them. I let them play. I just watched. At first from closer by — just to be sure they played well together. But then I moved further away — back into our own driveway. And it was as I opened the backend of my vehicle and sat in the back I began to really see.
I watched their behaviors, their interaction, their play. They each had their own ball, their own style, their own drive. But they were doing it together.
