The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane(103)
Amy was very disappointed, and she felt herself spiraling into sadness. Her mom and dad worried about her, because she had a history of anxiety and depression. Her dad tried to distract her with jokes. Her mom offered to take her shopping for souvenirs to give to her friends. But Amy had a serious case of the blues. On the last night of the trip, Alice knocked on the door that connected the two rooms.
“May I come in?” she asked, opening the door a couple of inches.
“Sure, Mom.”
Alice sat on Amy’s bed. “I’m sorry this didn’t work out. I’m sorry we brought you here. I’m—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh, honey, I wish I could make you understand . . .”
The way Alice’s voice trailed off forced Amy to ask, “Understand what?”
“How your dad and I felt when we got you. What you meant to us then. What you mean to us now. In the months leading up to the phone call that told us we could come and get you, I did everything I could to understand Chinese culture. I went on a walking tour of Chinatown, I devoured Amy Tan’s books, I watched Chinese movies. And we had all the practical stuff to do too. Our finances were critiqued and notarized; we were interviewed and authenticated. We traveled with six other family units. Three couples were married, two were gay, and there was a single woman with her mom. The way you cried—”
“I’ve seen the photo album,” Amy said. In those pictures, you could see the family-unit people weeping and laughing. All the babies were crying too, but her mouth had been a giant gaping hole, her eyes were squished shut, her legs and arms—her whole body actually—were as stiff as a board, and her cheeks were bright red because she was screaming her head off. “I cried, and I didn’t sleep.”
“The other babies cried, but you howled,” Alice agreed. “You howled and you wouldn’t sleep. I’m sure you understand the objective cause-and-effect reasons for that.”
“Objective cause-and-effect reasons? Can you for once speak to me from your heart and not like a scientist?”
“I’m trying.” Alice sighed. “I know I can be frustrating sometimes, but I only want the very, very, very best for you. I wish for you to feel smart and invincible.”
To Amy’s ears, her mother’s wishes sounded more like pressure to do more and achieve more, but she didn’t say that.
“You see,” Alice continued, “your crying was only natural. You were older than the other babies. You’d never seen a white person before. We don’t think you’d been picked up or held very much. You needed a lot of love. We gave you the love and you stopped crying, but, honey sweet, we’re still waiting for you to sleep.”
Ha, ha, ha, and blah, blah, blah.
“I know. Stupid humor. I’m sorry.”
“Would you please stop saying you’re sorry?”
“What I’m trying to tell you is that I’ve always wondered if you were crying because you missed your birth mother. I’ve thought about her every day since we got you. I couldn’t have a baby myself, so I’ve wondered if she was afraid when you were born. Was she in a hospital? Was she alone? Was your birth father at her side?”
“I’ve wondered the same things too,” Amy admitted.
“Not a day has gone by when I haven’t wondered if I hurt you more than helped you by wresting you away from your homeland and your culture. Even when you were a baby, I wondered when you would start to resent me for that. Maybe even hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, Mom.”
“The first night your dad and I had you, we piled pillows on the extra double bed in our room to make a protective nest for you. Your dad fell asleep, but I stayed awake all night. I wept when you grabbed my finger and held it tight. Your birth mother gave me the greatest gift of my life—a beautiful, talented, and kind daughter. Every day I take a moment to thank her for that. Your first smile, your first tooth, your first day of preschool, your first everything—I thought of her and thanked her. And she is with you always. Your birth father too. They’re in your tears. They’re in your laugh. They’re in you in ways you’ll never be able to count. And their love is what sent you to me.”
Tears began to well in Alice’s eyes, and Amy felt herself being swept into her mother’s ocean of love.
“From the first moment I saw you all the way to today and for as long as I live, I know that you are the daughter who was meant for me. I can never be a replacement for your birth mother, but I’ve done—and will continue to do—everything I can to complete what should have been her journey. I love you, and I’ll always love you.”
Amy held on to those words like they were a lifesaver.
* * *
Evaluation
Haley,
While you completely ignored my admonition not to write about the immigrant experience, I congratulate you for coming at it from a unique angle. There’s much you can work with here as you begin to think about your college app, but bear in mind that there will be other young women across the country who may write similar essays about their own adoption experiences. A few nitpicking points: Amy, Alice & Adam feels a bit cloying to me. (Do they really all need to start with an A?) Watch your language usage & remember that a thesaurus isn’t always your friend. And of course you’d never want to use bazillion or ginormous on a college app, but I’m sure you know that.