He’d been asking me for two weeks if I would cry.
Public tears are not prevalent in Chinese culture, and, until he came to our home, I don’t think this sweet boy had ever seen someone cry for HIM.
But when he saw me break down in our kitchen two weeks ago and Miss Mackenzie explained to him in Chinese that I was crying because 1. I was a crazy American and 2. I would miss him, his eyes lit up. He wrapped his arms around me, and he gave me one of his newly discovered running-jump hugs.
And from that day forward, every night as I tucked this sweet boy into bed, after bedtime stories and prayers, he counted down the days until he would board an airplane and Ayi would cry.
“Ayi ku la?” he would ask as he grasped my face in his hands and examined my eyes for tears.
“Thursday,” I kept telling him. “Ayi will definitely cry on Thursday.”
And on Thursday, I just couldn’t stop.Read More