by Andrea Lena DiMaggio
From Cindy’s Story…
“I have so much to be thankful for, but I think the thing I’m most grateful for is your friendship. You’ve been so kind and encouraging to me….” Cindy felt her face getting warm, and her nostrils flared.
“Oh, gosh…here I go again.” She was almost apologetic as her eyes began to fill with tears.
“I don’t know what’s going on…I’m in a pretty good mood…I gave the whole adoption thing to God in prayer, and yet here I am…crying…I’m so sorry…you don’t deserve this…on your birthday especially.
“Especially on my birthday…” The girl was a bit eccentric, as I noted, but Cindy wasn’t at all prepared for what happened next.
“Happy Birthday to me…” She giggled before pulling Cindy in for a kiss. Not a sisterly kiss…not a kiss from a church mate or a trusted friend or acquaintance, but an honest to goodness real live romantic on the lips kiss. The girl was still giggling even as their mouths met, and the sensation sent a shock through Cindy; almost like shuddering after a chill.
“Nooo….I can’t….” She protested even as she gave into the younger girl’s advance.
“Pretty please…it’s my birthday…” She continued to laugh, but the tone grew softer and more serious, like the kind of laugh that calms the worst of fears.
“Ohhhh.” The woman began to sob. Ginnie pulled her into an even tighter embrace as she whispered in her ear,
“It’s okay…I know…” Cindy’s eyes grew wide in surprise even as the sobbing continued.
“And I love you just the same…always have…ever since I first met you…you know? You and my brother used to hang around and play PS2 all the time when I was a kid….”
“But….”
“And I love you even more…now…just the way you are…or will be…it’s okay.” She smiled and laughed again, this time even softer and with a bit more of a breathiness to it.
“You and me…okay?”
"Yehhhhes"
Christmas Eve...three years later...
Cindy stood on the hill. The macadam walkway had been cleared but the snow still covered the ground for most of the hillside and the expanse of white at the bottom gave way to only a little color; the firs surrounding the clearing as well as scattered collections of yellows and off whites and even a bright orange here or there. Ginnie had sat down on one of the metal benches to rest, and what little snow had remained soaked her pants. Another time to rejoice; even if it meant pushing aside the sad for a bit.
“She’s resting, I think,” Ginnie said, looking down at her body and the life that she held within. Cindy turned back and smiled.
“I bet that won’t last if he keeps it up,” she pointed to Ginnie’s stomach, indicating the ever active twin.
“I think she’ll be just like me, you know?”
“Don’t I? You could fall asleep on a razor while the 1812 Overture played in your I-Pod.” Cindy looked at her spouse and smiled.
“I wish I could fall asleep that easy… you know. Maybe he’ll be just like me?”
“If he is, we’ll have a lot of fun sorting things out,” Ginnie giggled. Just like his mom… Mommy One-A? There really was no mommy protocol since both women would love and nurture and protect their cubs, even if only one could suckle. As if Cindy read Ginnie’s thoughts, she looked down at her own breast; decorative to be sure, but not as useful as they had hoped. And no turning back, so the two in Ginnie’s womb would be the sole products of Cindy’s life before her surgery. Not sole, but the only ones remaining.
“He’s okay, you know?” Ginnie looked at her love and smiled. It was an uneasy expression; not for a lack of joy, but in the midst of the joy they shared there was so much sadness and regret. No need for any regrets, but every need for sadness.
“I know. I’m….”
“Don’t! Please don’t?” Not a rebuke or even a request, but rather Ginnie’s plea to someone above them both that might ease the burden Cindy felt. No matter what, both of them had placed their hearts in God’s hands. Now to at least leave that burden there; it was hard when Cindy picked up the guilt and shame as if it was gift-wrapped just for her.
“I can’t help it.” She meant thinking; she certainly could control her actions and responses, but the urge to go to that place of anxious doubt and shame wasn’t hers alone. Both women had examined and re-examined their choices. Someone outside would actually consider them blessed, as if one or two or a hundred blessing could ever remove grief.
“He’s just fine.” A habit Ginnie had picked up when questioned about their eldest child. He was just fine in a way, but never so much as in the usual ways. She smiled weakly trying desperately to avoid the tears that were inevitable and contagious. She needn’t have worried, since Cindy was already crying.
“I know.” Cindy stepped off the pathway and walked slowly through the deep snow to the spot where all of their hopes and dreams lay buried along with their son. She used her foot to push the snow aside until she came to the plaque beneath.
David James Mayfield-Nelson, Beloved son of Cindy and Ginnie
January 12, 2014 — February 17, 2014
They had chosen to leave a space below their names to include the hoped-for renewal of what they believed to be a blessed life. The letters were fresh; the tarnish had only begun to creep up the sides to bring them more into the same hue as the rest of the plaque.
Beloved brother of Lucille and Phillip
Cindy laid the floral blanket on the plaque and stepped back. Turning, she looked back up the slight rise to the bench, but Ginnie had already stood and was trudging down the hill.
“I couldn’t just sit there, you know?” She paused long enough to look down at the place; the inscription peeked out through the round wreath as if it had been designed to be framed; even if by something so temporary as woven bits of fir branches. She sighed deeply and stepped closer to Cindy, placing her hand in Cindy’s.
“Phillip kicked again and I think Lucy is asserting herself; she kicked, though I don’t suppose she was trying to get back at him. She smiled before stepping close and hugging her wife.
“I….You know I love you, right?” She said even as she began to weep.
“Always and forever,” Cindy nodded, blinking back her own tears. She smiled and pulled out the paper she had in her coat pocket, but she really could have spoken the words by heart. Nevertheless, she unfolded it and spread it out a bit for Ginnie to see. The paper was stained with tears from every visit, and the creases had begun to show wear straight through from folding and unfolding.
You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing.
You have taken away my clothes of mourning
and clothed me with joy,
that I might sing praises to you and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever!
Cindy sang; slowly and with just a hint of hesitation. The words were of a faith that still struggled to sustain the hearts of the two women, but with each year that faith grew stronger. Ginnie squeezed her hand; the expression that usually accompanied each visit, but this time seemed different. Ginnie tugged at Cindy’s hand. Gaining attention, she pointed to her pants. The stain of the snow seemed to have grown but Ginnie nodded and smiled broadly.
“My water just broke.” A moment to glance down at the plaque before a trip up the hill and over the slight rise to where their car was parked.
Cindy smiled at the name once more…. Beloved brother of Lucille and Phillip. Her coat seemed lighter somehow, but warmer and more comforting. …clothed me with joy. She blinked back tears and put her hand under Ginnie’s arm and they walked back up the hill.
“Oh Lord my God…” She began to sing and Ginnie joined in
“I will give you thanks forever.” And they smiled.
Thanks to all who have read these stories and A Christmas Sampler
