Well, the house is so much quieter today. Except for frequent bursts of tears from Emily. "I MISS the boys SO MUCH!", "I know, honey, I do too..." Saying goodbye was horrible. A long drawn-out protracted affair, punctuated by shrieks and wails as the bus finally pulled away.
Emily was by far the loudest. I was grateful someone else was expressing my inner heart's agony without me having to get slobbery and headachy. The boys did pretty good until it was time to load up. They kept wiping away Emily's tears- "NO Emily, DON"T cry!, NO Emily." I cannot do justice to the accent as they say her name with tenderness, but it was heartwrenching to see them all trying to comfort one another with no real assurance that everything will be o.k.
Took the kids to a movie. Cleaned the kitchen. Stared at the leftover injera and shurro and sighed. Threw it to the chickens. Missed the companionship in the kitchen as I prepared dinner. Found one of the boys' hairbrushes and sighed again.
WHY!? Emily wants to know. Why did they have to go back so soon! I try to explain that a month is a long time to ask a family to host a child and that no matter how long we had them, it was going to be horrible to say goodbye. Then WHY did you sign us up for this?! She wants to know. I tell her that I was glad to get to know them and that it was good practice for when our permanent children come home from Ethiopia. She glares at me "Good practice to say good-bye?!" Nope, baby. When we get them, it will be forever. It was great practice for sharing a seat with Allen in the car, and practice for our language and my cooking. But really, I so understand how she feels. To love is to open oneself to pain. I don't regret a minute of it.
I would do it again in an instant. It completely changed how my kids think of Ethiopian children. Even how my husband thinks of Ethiopian children. What an enormous blessing.
Even if my heart still aches a bit.
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