To Sing Frogs Chapter 12b

Luba and the toy airplane (used symbolically in the book)

Soon Amy and I joined the fun and sprawled out on the floor with the children. We played with the toys we could get to. We played patty-cake. Amy and Luba rocked dolls to sleep and put them to bed. I knew how to play with little boys so Sergei and I pushed a truck around the room and filled the air with a growling engine and high pitched beeps when the truck backed up. The little boy looked at me strangely when I did that. Right. Trucks in Russia don’t beep. I had forgotten how much fun I had with my sons when they were small. Imagining that part of my parenting experience was over made me melancholy.

Aside from fighting over who would get the airplane, the two children were complete gems. It was obvious neither of them realized they would be losing a mother for the second time. Poor little Sergei could not have imagined how fast his surrogate sister would replace him. Marina-Grigorievna never ceased to smile as she diligently took notes for future reports.

After an hour the others returned. “Mama Olga!” Luba squealed. She rushed from Amy’s side to be swept up by the arms that would soon lose their ability to comfort her. “Mama Olga.” Amy thought it was sweet. I guess I worry about the future too much. The title “Mama Olga” made me think about inconsolable grief.

The first hour of the drive back to Vladivostok was filled with chatter. We spoke of how well the meetings had gone with Luba. We talked about how wonderful it would be to get the sisters back together and how exciting it would be to bring them home. There had been so much paperwork, so many ups and downs, elation and disappointments, waits and delays. Not to mention the international travel. Now we had met the girls and it seemed that nothing could stand in our way. For the first time—it felt real.

Something else was beginning to feel real. The further we got from Luba, the more we realized how difficult an indefinite future would be without those whom we would claim as our daughters. About the time we reached the beginnings of the Vladiv-Ozarks, dialog was diminishing. Stass and Anya attributed it to jetlag. To be honest maybe that was part of it. There was more to it though. Amy’s stare out the window was unbroken. The separation from Luba brought tears to her eyes and they rolled down her cheeks like rain on a window pane. I felt the same way.

After a half-hour of near silence Anya took it as an opportunity to test the afterburners. It was time to find out what the situation was capable of. “John, Amy, your application to adopt was filled out for three children. Why only the two girls?”

“It was always about two girls,” Amy responded. “We just didn’t want to miss out if there was a sibling group of three children.”

“So, you would have taken three…”

“Yeah. Sure. If Luba and Katya had a sibling there wouldn’t have been any problem.”

“Well,” Anya ventured, “it’s not a sibling, but I know of a little boy who was just put on the list. He’s a year-and-a-half old. Do you think you might be interested in meeting him?”

The light from Amy’s face blinded me. It was like when someone shoots your picture after you’ve been out on a moonless night. “Yes! Of course we want to meet him! Right, John? Don’t we want to meet him?”

Another Kid?! Another boy? I can live without one! If I never meet him, I don’t have to worry about if I can walk away. Contrary to popular belief, it’s amazing how many problems evaporate if you simply ignore them. Maybe that’s not true. I guess they don’t really disappear; you just don’t have to face them. My mind worked fast enough so Amy didn’t notice the delay. The pause wouldn’t have been surprising from a calculating brain like mine. “Sure we want to meet him. Will we still see Katya today?” I didn’t want to break the first promise we made to her. I was already going through withdrawals, myself.

“Of course we’ll still see Katya today.” Anya assured me. “The other little boy lives two hours north of Vladivostok. It’s the other direction from where we’ve been. If you want, I can make arrangements for you to visit him tomorrow morning.”

“Yes! Tomorrow!” Amy almost shouted. Then she slid to the middle of the back seat and leaned forward to observe while Anya dialed her phone. Of course the entire discussion was in Russian. By the time Anya concluded the call, Amy was bouncing on her seat like a two-year-old. “What did they say? Can we visit him? Can we go tomorrow morning?”

Anya smiled. “Yes, Amy. Tatiana, the director of Kirrill’s orphanage says she’ll be happy to see us tomorrow.”

“That’s his name?! Kirrr… How do you say it again?”

“Yes. Kirr-rrill. It rhymes with cereal and you roll the ‘r’.”

I’ve got to give it to her. Amy tried. She had no more luck then when she tried to say Nakhodka with the hock a loogie sound.

 

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