It’s been a busy three weeks.
Three of my four grandparents have been to the hospital. Two of them for surgery. My closest sister had her first child, and my youngest sister – the one who’s personality saved my life – she turned ten. Double digits. My brother’s in college and I’m not there to be a non-parental voice of reason. My teenage sisters are going through all that teenage horror without me in my room – in the Safe Haven I tried to create – far removed from all outer issues.
I’m missing a lot.
Life feels like it’s passing me by. My friends are getting engaged and moving and going through crap without me. I’m not there. I can’t do a single blessed thing, whether it be to celebrate or to comfort.
And yet I’m here.
Today I held a baby whose mother was in a women’s retreat. “I’m surprised he’s going to you for this long. Normally he’s crying for his mommy already. ” A worker at the center marveled.
I love babies – especially the criers. They’re just misunderstood. Normally, they’re just too smart for their own non-communicative bodies. Bored out of their minds, they need stimulation. I took him to the bamboo reeds and let his fingers play with the soft round spokes as I gently walked him back and forth. He was fascinated with a golden chain attached to a wall. He tried to put the shiny object in his mouth to see if it was edible. “No sirree. Try this cheese.” He likes cheese. When we went outside, his tiny lungs took a big breath of fresh air and his eyes darted back and forth, between green trees and blue skies. Of course, you’re really attached to your mother. You are a refugee from a war-torn country. But here, you will have a better life.
The center is for family education and for refugees to have an income. They come 2-3 times a week and make jewelry. There’s an incredible playroom for toddlers and older children to read and play and imagine. They may even forget for a moment that the real world exists. Meanwhile, their mothers gather and talk in the other room about the difficulties of life. They are each other’s support system, as fragile as it may be. Their families, far from home, can have a safe place to count on.
I miss being near my home. Today, as I held that sweet little baby, I thought, “There’s not much I can do for my grandparents, and I may not be able to hold my precious nephew until he is about your age, but I can hold you – now – and give you whatever love I have.” I wonder if he has an aunt, far away, that wishes she could be in my shoes.
