They were ensconced in the - St. loft by 10 PM. K bouncy and confident, whizzing around, shouting Aibobo! at all moments, to all and sundry, not in the least intimidated by people speaking English. She hardly saw a white person or anyone not speaking Kreyole all her life until she got to the airport.
M, how can I describe? Her confident, pleased, curious, healthy daughter says it best. K is very much her warrior mother's soul and character. In the meantime though, M. may have one hell of a crash, now that she's where they are safe. The first thing M. says is, "Thank you, thank you, thank you," to everyone. But we all know, that in the end it was her, and Mz, who actually DID it. She is ill with a mild form of malaria. She is tired. She'd gotten little sleep for weeks in the heat, humidity, mosquitoes and other dangers, and then none at all the last two days, with getting to the U.S. Embassy so early two days in a row because the U.S. Embassy and the INS f*ed up.
We are discussing family therapy, which is available to members of the Haitian community here affected by the earthquake. Who knows entirely what K saw and experienced before M was able to get there and take custody?
They are home, they really are home! It was the shock of the familiar so long absent, to hear her voice again on the cell. It was the unique, unmistakable voice of our friend. I did not burst into tears upon hearing M's voice.
I seldom cry these days, for if I did weep over whatever is worthy to weep over, I'd never not be crying.