A Series of Fortunate Events

It really wasn't a great weekend, so it doesn't make sense.

I'm not sure if it was the way they frolicked around Chuck E Cheese, playing and playing without even asking for more tokens after they ran out. Or if it was how Meadow came home with a huge grin holding a can of Pepsi from the basketball games she attended with her dad, J & O and I was happy to see her face, eager to hear about her morning. Maybe it was when Bobby told me how quickly and easily she warmed up to her grandpa who was also there to watch. She had only met him once before, briefly, and they were instant friends. Was it the way Flint ran to me for comfort when he fell off the chair in the kitchen and began crying, because he has learned "mama" gives hugs to injured children? It could have been the colder parts of my heart melting away as I watched Jayla and Meadow savor the company of one another, playing this and that, together all day long - day in and day out - sisters and new best friends. I don't know if it was the answer of "yes" that came out of her mouth when I asked her a question, the hopeful promise of real, verbal communication on the horizon. It could have started while watching them sit at the table and eat food that was set before them, with thankfulness, no complaining, no scrunched up faces, because they are usually glad to have whatever is on their plate. I saw them trust that their needs will be met, by me. Or it may have happened when looking at them on a cold night as they put on their footie jammies and climb into the beds their dad made for them, warm and snug, ready for sleep in their home. Maybe it was the way she adored that pretty pink hat her grandma brought her as a gift or how sweet she looked wearing it and my mind instantly flashed forward to the gorgeous young woman she will one day become because she is truly a beautiful little girl. Was it when they put out napkins and forks on the table to lend a helping hand without being asked, so proud of their service, saying "mama, mama" so that I would take note? It might have been their laughter as I pulled out my translation book and tried to put a coherent sentence together of my horrible Amharic mixed with exaggerated charades-like gesturing, or that time she dressed up Clover in that gown and brought her to me to see. I don't know if it was the way they rubbed my back to comfort me, offering easy forgiveness the way only a pure hearted child will when I cried with guilt and remorse after far too many bad mommy moments over the weekend. Was it that time when Dad walked in the house?

Whatever it was, either a thousand little things added all together or one big, pivotal moment, I can't tell for sure. All I know is, I feel the love I've been waiting for.