The Weather is cold and rainy, It has not worked out to buy an umbrella, one of those things which happen so easily and we are getting wet waiting for a second bus.
At the orphanage the girls invite us up to their room to talk. We sit or some lay on the little beds as we talk back and forth through the translator. There are eight to ten of us. Our five, the translator and two sometimes four close friends. The friends say very little, they watch and listen, often looking at Susan or I but no eye contact or engagement. Sometimes there are” flats” in the conversation while we think of the next thing to say or ask. Sometimes we move along easily and the pitch rises as we laugh or a story is shared. Inside I tell myself to relax and enjoy the moment. We and our two new daughters all want this. We will find out about each other. All those little pieces that make us who we are and who we are becoming.
One of the girls is rubbing her eyes as we talk. I ask is there is something in them or is it her friend who we know has now left with her new family. It is her friend. The acknowledgment puts her into a worse state as I move to sit beside her and put my arm around her to comfort. I tell her I do not mind she is sad for her friend leaving, it is good for me to see she cares for her friend.
The question is asked. When are we going? How long before we leave. We talk dates, birth certificats, passports, plane tickets and what paperwork remains. Susan asks if they want to stay at the orphanage instead of coming back to our flat with us for the weekend. No! We want to come with you.
The friends look around the room, soon maybe a week and they to will be left.
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