Saying Goodbye to the Girls
What does it mean to be a mom? That, I don’t know. I’m not there yet. All I know is the overwhelming feeling of love, pride, and loss. When I had to say goodbye to the two girls I love more than anything else, I cringe at the cliche, but it felt like my heart cracked open. I couldn't talk about it, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't even drive home without pulling over. Tears swelled in my eyes for days and my heart is sinking just thinking about it as I sit at the dining room table glancing over at the little pots we made before they left. The cacti, whose soil fill those little works of art, are a reminder of the new opportunities that lie ahead for those amazing sisters in Mericopa, Arizona.
The day after Christmas in 2011 I had parked my car outside our empty house and very-unlike-the-season, I felt a lot like the house. I felt tired, cold and alone. I sat there in the driver seat, as I sometimes do, and tears nonchalantly rolled down my face. I hardly noticed until my phone rang. I resisted answering a number I didn't recognize for fear the unavoidable rasp would give away my sadness to the unidentified caller. Pause. Voicemail.
“This is Mariah and I was calling to set up an appointment with Ms. Lizzie. When you get this message will you please call XXX-XXXX. Bye!”
An appointment! For me! I couldn’t then, and can’t even now, describe how immediate the clouds shifted. Mariah, this incredible eight year old girl who I had tutored every single Thursday since September, had finally called.
Mariah had stolen my heart from the first project we were assigned - a “getting to know you” assignment. The second question we had to ask each other sealed our fate, “what is your birthday?” “April 7th.” We couldn’t believe it, in addition to both being obsessed with purple, we shared a birthday.
