I don't sleep well any more. When E is in my house, I jump from bed at the slightest sound to make sure she is not crying in the dark. When she is not with me, I lay in the darkness for hours, fighting my imagination, my thoughts that explore the avenues and possibilities of the coming day. Only when the ceiling grows pale and then white to do I nod off into something sleep-like, as I know the day is already here.
I celebrated New Year's Eve with N and her lovely mother in our warm little kitchen. I cooked and cooked, finding beauty in the tight pink curls of shrimp, the mahogany lacquer of a roast duck, the fragrance of country pate on fresh bread. Fine champagne crossed my lips. Kind toasts were made. The year of the rabbit was here and I looked to fill myself with great thoughts of safety and love.
After midnight we brought N's mother home and visited her cousin's party. A roasted pig's head sat in the center of the table staring at us. The glasses were filled and filled. Toasts splashed all around us, wishes of health and happiness, toasts to children, to money. Young women and children danced like mad, the tables pushed away from the sofa so they could wiggle around in funny hats for hours. I sat and watched it all, N next to me as beautiful as ever. I felt quiet.
Hours passed as more gifts were exchanged, as husbands and wives, aunts, uncles, grandmothers, boyfriends and girlfriends, brothers and sisters all laughed and joked and nudged each other with kisses and hugs and frequent shouts of "S'novim godom" (with the New Year). Over and over they wished each other happiness. The champagne was finally gone, and we shifted to great cups of black tea, plates and plates of homemade napoleons, dried persimmons, chocolates. The pig's face remained in the center of the table, a sort of anchor. N's cousin Michael would eat it when he woke up in the afternoon, the brains a delicacy as he explains it.
I could not finish the giant cognac in front of me. We ventured out into the cold and the eventual warmth of the covers waiting for us. The sun was coming up, and I saw myself nested against N's shoulders, smelling her new perfume. I was closing my eyes, my hands awkwardly stretched across the pillows. I was going to sleep.
The next day I would take E in the afternoon with any luck.
Comments
I think of you and E often and wish I could help. Living so close to DC, I am going to do some research, can you write about what kind of help you may need?
Can you get E an American Passport?
Let me know the kind of help you need...