Five Minutes

It took over five minutes for Aaron to swim across the pool last Wednesday in his first swim meet.

Five long, tear-filled minutes.

How can I capture those minutes into words?

Our little Aaron.  

With a list a mile long of all the things he can't do.

Swimming in his first swim meet.

Completely at ease.  With the biggest grin on his face..

..and with his dimples shining the entire length of the pool.

His coach swimming beside him and quietly cheering him on the entire way.

I'm not one who tends to cry in public but for those five minutes - I wasn't just crying - I was coughing up full fledged sobs as I watched my little guy happily inching along.

It was surreal to watch him and listen to the hundreds and hundreds of people lining the pool all the way around...several people deep.

SCREAMING.

Screaming and yelling and cheering over one little boy who was going oh so very fast in his mind.

Cheering him on as he gallantly swam.

Five long scream-filled minutes.

Tears flowed as he made his way to the end.

Not just me.  Not just Rob.

But all over the place people were crying.  Watching.  Cheering.

Words do not do those five minutes justice.

When he reached the end and his little head touched the wall... when everyone screamed like he had won....

Yelling as if his was not the slowest race of the night..

Yelling as if what he had done was amazing beyond belief..

Yelling as if it was all that mattered...

Yelling for one little boy who has gone through so much ... who has endured so much... lost so much...

One little boy who inspired a crowd for those five minutes..

It was all I could to do keep from going to complete pieces.

To not want to jump up on a podium and yell out to all those cheering - to tell them where he had been - what he has overcome - what he left behind.  

My heart burned because even though all of those people were cheering him on, most did not even know his story.  They had no idea where he spent the first six years of his life.  They had no clue that for a year he sat in a shed passing the time by drawing pictures in the dirt around him.

They had no idea, yet his swim brought people to the edge of that pool and they yelled like there was no tomorrow... both teams... rivals to the core.. two coaches shaking hands over one very brave little boy.

Aaron.

I cried in the arms of a friend after it was over.  Cried tears of joy and tears of sorrow.  Sobbing out to her all the gut-wrenching thoughts and feelings I experienced as I watched him swim.  Remembering.  Remembering.  Grieving.  Rejoicing.  All wrapped up in one little swim by the bravest little guy I know.

Oh to think that fear of the unknown almost held us back from adopting such a treasure!

To think that if we had said no, the world would never have known the amazing and wonderful Aaron Vanya Nalle.