Here I sit at the Honda dealership with my friend on my lap, unfortunately it is not the little girl I await to adopt from Uganda, but my minilaptop that seems to offer me a little diversion while doing my least favorite errand of all: car work. While I hooked up my blackberry to get internet access a young father carrying the cutest little black girl in his arms came in to the room. She had a full on afro about six inches wide with glittered butterfly clips attached randomly throughout her soft fuzzy hair. Her little hands were clutching her daddy’s strong shoulder muscles as he spoke to her tenderly and smile the wide sort of way that is reserved only for a precious child. Of course she was wearing pink and matching from her butterflies to her cowboy boots. As quickly as they arrived they departed. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them as they walked around our window walled waiting room. He set her down and let her walk, he bent over several times so she could hear what he said, and she walked as fast as she could with her arm nearly coming out of her socket to reach her daddy’s big hand, mostly on the tips of her toes. I can’t think of a better description of the word: CUTE.
My heart swelled. Children tend to have this affect on me. It was the most precious time of my life when I had one at a time to take care of and enjoy thoroughly without having to manage sibling relationships in public (with four that was hard). I got to do it with Donny, again with Jack while his brothers went to school, and even with Kevin and Jordan when I could manage a date- which required a lot more effort, but it was a worthy cause. One on one with mama was my favorite time. And now seeing this little girl as she could look very much like my little girl I hope to get sooner rather than later, it mixes up my emotion into a syrupy slop that might cause me some indigestion today if I don’t get out of this dealership quick.
As Craig waits he is more on the move than I am with the process. He tracks down an email for the government desk that has our paper work and he requests an update since we’ve waited nearly six weeks for something that was supposed to take a couple. Tick tock, we aren’t young parents people. He gets this response for all his searching: “we have received your file it has not been reviewed yet.”
But I refuse to be emotionally stuck on this stall, I can imagine instead my little darling girl clinging to Craig’s shoulders while she wears pink, especially the sparkling butterflies in her little afro. Craig will coo like this young father did with his little girl. And I will cry with joy. That keeps me going. That’s a frown turned upside down. Press on. Persevere. Believe.