Mela
By Natalia Vega Maisonave specially written for “Time” by Piano Del Cuore.
As I sit on the park bench, in front of children playing, I see my small girl–Mela–run and smile. Her toothy grin makes anyone smile along, and I look towards her like fool in awe. She plays with the other kids, as if her past seven years of life had been nothing but calming, sweet memories. Although she has a warm and caring family now, I can’t help but feel anger as I remember the state she was in when we first met her.
~~~
“This is your new family, Mela,” the foster mom, Erany, presented me and my wife. Mela’s small hands held tightly to Miss Erany, unwilling to let go. Her knuckles turning white.
Miss Erany looked to us, and lowered her voice, “She’s been through several homes and families before you. Please, be patient take good care of her.”
My wife, Clari, assured her. “We will take great care of Mela, Miss Erany. Right, Joshua?”
“Without a doubt,” I answered. I brought forward a basket we prepared for Mela, filled with various sweets and a stuffed giraffe plushie, and offered it to Mela.
Miss Erany opened her eyes wide, “Look at that, Mela! They brought you a gift. Go ahead, they’re your family, sweety.”
Mela eyed the basket wantingly but approached us rather slowly with precaution. She took the basket, but didn’t touch the contents, not even on the drive home. Mela didn’t speak, she only stared our way while Clari told her all about our house and school district and how she was going to love it. Mela didn’t really seem to be listening, but she nodded along.
Clari spoke excitedly over the radio music. “You can call me ‘mommy’ and him, ‘daddy’. Or ‘dad’ if you like, you don’t have to use a specific name or anything.”
Mela stopped nodding and looked out the window, following every passing car. She didn’t call us by those names, didn’t call us anything really. She pointed to things and said short phrases only when necessary. We learned to distinguish what each pointing gesture meant, and even made games out of it, to see if she’d come around.
We had been informed that Mela had a really rough childhood up until now, as most orphan children do. She had gone through three foster homes and had been adopted twice, both times by family members, and both times was mistreated physically and emotionally.
No one told us specifically what they had done to her, but as time passed, we could guess what they did from her behavior. Mela didn’t like Clari brushing or braiding her hair, she said her parents used to pull it. She wouldn’t eat much, scared of being punched in the stomach. Whenever we went to grab her hand, she pulled hers back reflexively, as if we were going to drag her somewhere. Every time these little mishaps happened, Clari and I would glance at each other. Furious towards those who treated Mela like that and upset that we couldn’t do something sooner.
I explained to Mela we would never do those types of things to her, that she was our daughter and we loved her. Little by little, she seemed to trust us. But there were still issues that we didn’t know how to get around. The first time she did something wrong, we scolded her firmly, and it was a setback in forming the family we wanted because she hid herself from us. The guilt that overcame us was too much, but it was necessary to learn new ways to discipline her. We talk things out now and it might even be more effective than old school scolding.
My dear Mela. If I’d known that I was going to have a daughter like her, I would’ve stolen her illegally from her parents, as to not expose her to any violence. But that’s not the case. She lived in a very harmful environment, and no matter what we do, we can’t change that. We can only help her overcome her trauma, one day at a time.
~~~
The memories of our first year together bring an even bigger smile to my face now. The things we went through for our daughter. And here I am now, one year after. Mela runs around the playground, other kids following her as part of a game. Clari comes to sit beside me with three ice creams in her hands.
“Hold this, Joshua.” Clari looks around, “Is she still playing?”
“Non-stop.” I grab two ice creams.
“That’s good.” Clari follows Mela with her eyes, watching as she goes up and down the ladder while raising her arms up in joy and carelessness.
Mela’s ice cream cone begins to melt in my hand. “Mela, come here!” I call out.
She peaks up like a meerkat. Seeing the ice cream, she runs towards us. Her two long braids flapping behind her like dog ears and her beautiful smile stretching from side to side, one tooth missing–but well paid for by the Tooth Fairy.
Mela yells as she runs and jumps over rocks. “Daddyyyyyyy!” She crashes into us. “Is that my ice cream?” She asks while already licking it.
“For who else would it be?” Clari brushed Mela’s hairs back. “Sit down, sweety.”
Instead of taking the empty seat, Mela sits on top of the both of us. Clari gives me a smile, and we both appreciate our family and continue celebrating our adoption anniversary with our Mela.
