To Sing Frogs Chapter 19a

Amy, Luba and Katya at the Partizansk Baby Hospital, Luba’s orphanage.

Chapter 19

Fleeting Moments

 

“Luba!” Katya screamed as she pushed off Bill and wiggled to get down. From the time we left her residence of single-brick monuments, Katya refused to walk and insisted that Dyehdushka Bill carry her. Now Olga was standing in the playroom of the Partizansk Baby Hospital holding Luba. That changed things. Bill struggled to keep enough of a hold on Katya to safely place her on the ground, much as she would have dove to the floor unprotected. The girl ran to Olga who stooped and placed two-year-old Luba on her feet. Katya thudded into her startled sister who was only kept from being knocked to the floor by a smothering embrace.

Luba shrieked. Not only did she not recognize her big sister, she didn’t appreciate being mauled. Olga and Anya intervened, calming down overexcited Katya and comforting little Luba. Katya’s arms were pried loose momentarily while Luba was given a chance to adjust. Adults spoke to her in baby talk and tried to help her remember her sister.

I don’t think it worked. The family had broken and no one was surprised. Even the parts that could be repaired wouldn’t be without time and effort; a lot of time and effort. In Russia it’s a known fact families get screwed up when parents don’t take care of them. I guess we know it in the States too. We just don’t accept the consequences.

Russia doesn’t intend to stop the damage when people do things that will destroy their families. Those who live in Russia would never consider the possibility of others focusing all of their efforts on an attempt to assist in their reformation. And shielding offenders from natural results? Please.Russia believes you can choose your actions, not the consequences. In the States we think people have the right to choose both.

Russians tend to take accountability to an extreme. Sickeningly, I was almost refreshed to be in a country that still understood such a strange and foreign concept.

Luba’s life was nearing a time of monumental change. I’m sure she felt the ground shifting beneath her. As I looked at the long worn China cabinet, the end doors were still taped shut. The two-foot-tall pink and white bunny appeared to be content, even happy in his prison. The bunny was going nowhere. The bunny had nothing to fear.

There the two little girls stood; Katya held back from smothering her baby sister and Luba being restrained from making a hasty retreat. The Russians in the room didn’t even think about the effects of their time apart. They had been separated. So what? Everyone should be happy they were getting back together. That didn’t happen very often, so—in the Russian mind—there was only one way to look at the half-full glass.

Soon the girls were playing energetically with various toys that Mama Olga removed from unsecured portions of the cabinet. Katya played with her sister. Luba interacted with her new playmate. It wasn’t seamless. Katya had oldest child syndrome and Luba had spoiled rotten little brat syndrome. Both thought it their destiny-assigned position to determine the method and manner of each detail of play. Katya would take plastic animals that Luba had set out and correct their locations. Luba would grab the toys, shriek, and refuse to relinquish them.

Olga, Stass, and Anya quietly excused themselves and let us spend time with the girls. With Amy’s intervention they began to play together nicely.

My wife had to keep dragging me back into playtime. I was enjoying sitting back and watching the bond weave. Amy wanted me weaving, not observing.

            Women.

            After a while Marina-Grigorievna came into the room followed by Anya. Amy and I jumped up to greet her.

“Prevyet.”

“Hello Marina-Grigorievna,” Amy and I responded in unison.

“She says it is good to have you back. She hopes everything went well during your absence,” Anya translated.

“It’s good to be back,” I responded. “Please tell her it’s great to see her again.”

The social worker offered her hand for sincere but limp-fish shakes. Marina-Grigorievna belonged in a place where hugs were more standard in greetings. She should have used her own magic portal to get to such a location. Gatekeepers never do. The social worker apologized once again for interrupting. She required a few more notes on us interacting with the girls for her presentation at court on Thursday. She asked us to please ignore her and go back to what we were doing. Happily, we granted her wish. Anya sneaked away.

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