“I
thought we could take her,” my husband said.
It
was 2012 right before Christmas and we, the Robinson family, were out to
dinner, talking some time to gather, to release the stress of the season and
relax into the holiday spirit. The Christmas lights twinkled on each tree
outside. The décor in the Asian fusion restaurant was minimal, and the
atmosphere was busy with excitement and chatter, the staff rushing to keep
everyone happy. Dinners of sweet and sour and pad Thai and spicy noodles were being delivered to staff parties and groups of young, carefree friends.
It was great to be out of my kitchen, great to sit with the kids
and talk about the year ahead. Talk about the trip that my husband and son had
taken over the Thanksgiving to the remote and impoverished Marshall Islands.
And that is when he said it.
His
words were subtle, so soft that I didn’t grasp what he had said. Certainly not
the magnitude. Not the idea when it was put before me. But over the appetizers,
and among the chaos of my three young children receiving their apple juice and
ginger ale the waitress asking, who had the Sprite? And after my first sip of
wine, that cool crisp first sip of chardonnay seeped into my blood flow and
chilled my spirit, did I slowly understand what my husband had said.
There
was a child in the Marshall Islands, thousands of miles away from our little
town of Vineyard Haven, on an island of immense poverty and outstanding beauty,
and this child was (possibly, maybe, depending on what I said next) coming to live with us. She would come from one of the
poorest islands in the world to one of the riches islands in America.
Her
name was Yolani.
I
must be honest, for I have learned that to be honest is a virtue, not for or towards others
but with oneself, most importantly.
I
was thinking my husband was now as crazy as the rest of his family. Pure mad,
did he not realize we already had three children that were bringing us to a
very dangerous level in our relationship, so tired were we, him overworked, me underpaid, with no me-time in sight. I was barely
coping, he must not have understood me when I raised my voice at them, and him, that I
could take no more, and please, go tidy their room, simply pick up after
themselves, to clean the bathroom after themselves for the love of God. I was
not born to be a slave, a glorified cleaner, come on people, for F*&K sake!
I try not
to say curses now, but I do think many colorful curses, everyday. I can't get rid of that, it's me.
But really, did
he not just see the Sprite get bumped, topple and spill across the table, did
he not hear the girls begin their high-pitched revved up fighting words, he just didn't
not seem to understand that we were already over our heads, and the price to
pay for putting the family under any more pressure, was to break the family
itself. It was not just a possibility, but a probability. But then he said.
"We can do it," he looked at me, kind of, looked, grabbed a napkin and wiped the spill, looked back and said. "We can, one more time."
Something about
this idea, something that said,
it would be a brilliant thing, we are five, she would bring us balance, we
would be six. She is a bright star and she is coming to us, she picked us, it’s not a choice,
it is a destiny. Something happened in the split of a second, there was no thought, no weighing of the pros-and cons, but simply a pure and utter confidence, that said. We could.
That
is what I thought. I must tell you what I was thinking, because people have
asked the same question in many ways. I have learned more in the last six
months about people than the rest of my forty-six years combined.
What
was I thinking? After, when I got home, back to my sanctuary, my bed, with my books and my pillows and my comforter, what was I was thinking? That it
would be a lot of legal mumbo-jumbo and probably wouldn't happen, but if all
the I’s were dotted and the paperwork signed, it was meant to be to. I continued to ask the question of myself. What can I offer her? How can we, as a family, help her? What the heck, if she doesn't like us?
I began to google daily. We are here.
The Vineyard. Seven miles off the coast of Cape Cod. New England.
Wikipedia article: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roi_Namur
Nearby cities:
Shizuoka, Nikko, Hamamatsu
Coordinates: 9°21'55"N 167°29'42"E
There are 68,000 people living in the Marshall Islands. Most of these are Marshallese. The Marshallese are of Micronesian origin and migrated from Asia several thousand years ago. A minority of Marshallese have some recent Asian ancestry, mainly Japanese. Two-thirds of the nation's population lives on Majuro, the capital, and Ebeye, a densely populated island.[36][37][38][39]
The outer islands are sparsely populated due to lack of employment
opportunities and economic development. Life on the outer atolls is
generally traditional.
The official language of the Marshall Islands is Marshallese, but it is common to speak the English language.[40]
The official language of the Marshall Islands is Marshallese, but it is common to speak the English language.[40]
She is here. Yolani with her school friends, on Third Island
Lagoon Pond, Vineyard Haven.
