Perfect Day #2

I watched a horrible movie yesterday.  The plot was terrible and the acting was worse.  Nevertheless, there was one line in the movie that was completely true.  "Parenthood is really really bad and then something awesome happens and it is worth it.  Then, it is really bad again." 

Forgive me.  I know this seems like a negative outlook but so many things about parenthood are really difficult.  Many days seem like an endless practice in self control but today was a great day. 

Jess gave me maps for Christmas.  I have an irrational love of maps.  I open a map and drool at possibilities.  Modern people have GPS but I crave a good map.

I had spent a week digesting my Kathmandu map and this morning I was ready to enlist my fellow adventurers.  I fed them a carb-packed pancake breakfast and cleaned out our pink backpack.  I replinished the supplies with a fresh package of goldfish and bottled water.  Jess played navigator and we drove towards the mountains. 

We made wrong turns and backed out of one lane roads.  We asked locals for directions and stumbled up a steep road until we reached the gate of the national park.  Two smooth faced army soldiers guarded the gate and after paying our entrance fee we embarked on an adventure.

The road was steep and pitted with large rocks.  We lumbered forward and were waved down by two young men with spiked trendy haircuts asking for a lift.  They had missed their bus and their cargo was too heavy to carry up the mountain.  We obliged and Jess helped them load heavy boxes of beer and liquor into our trunk.  They talked loudly in Nepali and broken English attempting to entertain our son JAC.  They insisted on flagging down every passing motorcycle to inquire about directions.  No one knew where they were going and Jess and I looked at each other sideways.  We were ready to be free of our passengers.  We rounded a wide curve and our passengers let out a cheer from the back seat.  Their friends stood next to a disabled bus.  We were heroes.  We had brought the beer and five eager young men helped unload it.

We silently cheered the departure of our new friends and moved forward up the road.  We parked at a monastery and JAC exuberantly launched himself out of the car.  Jess and I desperately wanted JAC to love hiking.  Hiking is a thread that runs through our relationship. But with JAC, most hikes end in disaster.  JAC whines, cries, refuses to move forward or simply sits playing in the sand.

Today JAC rushed forward delinghting in every element of the trail.  He commented on butterflies, climbed rocks and relished sliding down too steep sections on his bottom.  We hiked under red, blue and yellow prayer flags and the narrow trail opened to a small clearing.  A white man wearing robes sat poised in mediation.  His dread locks and beard met together and to create a heart shaped brown mass around his head.    He chanted rythmic sounds -"zzzzaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaaaa." 

JAC asked, "What that man doing?"  When Jess replied, "Praying," JAC wanted to pray too.  "ZAAAAAAAAA"  JAC loudly repeated.

On the hike back to the car JAC rode high on Jess' shoulders.  He started singing.  He was singing an army cadence we had taught him last year.  He had remembered it from previous hikes and trail runs.  The air was clear.  The sky was blue.  We were on a mountain together and we were a family - who all loved the same things.  It was a perfect day.