Joanne and I had an uneventful trip down to Boston. Our first stop was the Children’s Hospital to visit with Lexi, Rick and Gail. I was happy to see Lexi awake and alert, and with the aid of a wheelchair we were able to enjoy a nice outdoor lunch in one of the hospital’s gardens. We left the hospital at 6:15 figuring we could easily reach the airport by our designated meet time of 6:45.
The truth is, nothing is easily done in downtown Boston… especially when there is a ballgame going on at Fenway. We seemed to catch every red light along the way, and the scarcity of “Airport” signs in the city is abominable. Then again, it’s Boston… Love it or Leave it. Except you can’t leave it because there are no signs to the highway either, except the onces on the entrance ramps. Anyway, after 2 trips around the airport parking maze, we settled into the “Central” lot and parked in row “Y1″. Again, it would be nice if they posted a sign that said, “There is a row ‘Y1′ on every level, so leave a trail of bread crumbs on your way to the terminal”. The only problem being you’d have to eventually eat the breadcrumbs to survive because there are no signs pointing to the terminals inside the parking lot! We decided to follow a frantic-looking sweaty guy who seemed late for a flight and apparently knew where he was going. Either that or he was sweating because he had finished his last breadcrumb hours before and feared dying of starvation before he found the terminal entrance. He was polite enough to blurt out “Terminal C on the left” as he headed off in the opposite direction. And right he was… just a quarter mile down on the left. My memory gets blurry after that… there were stairs, elevators, and escalators involved. Basically you’re in a concrete tomb, looking up out a window to see how many levels UP you have to go to reach the skywalk that actually puts you inside the airport. There is actually a sign INSIDE the elevator that says “Skywalk Level 4″, but outside the elevator all the floors are lettered, not numbered. I also noticed that every elevator has a speaker in it that makes “elevator sounds”. There is one sound for doors opening, one for doors closing, and one for when it is moving. I can only guess that this is to assist blind people. Not too surprising since the whole airport was apparently designed by blind people. But whatever the reason, trust me: Speakers or no, blind people have every bit as likely a chance of finding their terminal as the keen-sighted folks.
Oh yeah… this is a story about meeting Tonya. When we finally got to the baggage claim area of Sky Blue Airlines, we saw most of our fellow hosts waiting anxiously. We learned that the plane had landed but the children had not come out yet. (Whew! We weren’t late!) We met our translator, Olga, who we were pleased to learn lived nearby in Manchester. She gave us her card and assured us we could call her 24/7 if we needed her help. (We like Olga!!) Now it was just “wait time”. I thought we’d be nervous or edgy, but mostly we were just excited. We were ready for this. After a 10-minute wait or so, out came the children and their chaperons. There were only 4 kids in today’s group (the Latvian kids are coming in tomorrow). Tonya stood out in a pink “Shania-esque” cowboy hat and she looked absolutely adorable. One by one, the translators introduced each family to their child. We had been warned that after such a long trip the kids may be “zombified” or just melt down, but Tonya was confident-looking and receptive as she was guided toward us. Jo and I knelt down and gave her a big hug, which she promptly returned. Olga, helped us through the introductions. We learned that her name “Tonya” is actually derived from a much longer and more proper Russian name, and as such was pronounced with a long “o” sound.. something like “tohne-yah”. We presented Tonya with her stuffed stripy kitty which brought a warm and genuine smile to her face. She shyly said “Thank You” in Russian. We asked her if she had received the letter which we wrote several weeks before, which contained very basic information about our home, our family, our pets, and several photos of each. “Da” she said. “Yes”. (sidenote: The agency requires these letters… they are translated into Russian so the children can read them just prior to leaving.) Tonya then surprised us with a gift that she was holding… a beautiful Russian calendar showing different scenes from her home city in Russia. “This is for you”, Olga conveyed. When we initially asked her if she was hungry and tired, she said “yes”, but upon asking again later on, she said “no”. Olga got a kick out of this. We talked back and forth for a bit about “favorite colors” and how to say “cat” and “dog” in Russian. But before long, we ran out of questions to ask and that weird awkwardness started to creep in a bit. Joanne took the opportunity to show her all the other items in her backpack. The first thing she pulled out was silver-colored bracelet with blue butterflies on it. Joanne placed it over her wrist and adjusted it to fit. Tonya beamed.
After a few photos were taken of us and some group shots, it was time to go. We asked Olga to ask Tonya if she needed to use the “toilet” (apparently a universal word) before we left. “Nyet”. No.
Okay then… off we go. Tonya took Joanne’s hand initially as we walked towards the escalator. And then an elevator. And… well… I don’t want to go into great detail again, but suffice to say that Tonya’s first impression of us was 2 idiots who not only couldn’t find their car in the Parking Lot, but even upon finding it, couldn’t find the exit OUT OF the parking lot!
I couldn’t get out of the city fast enough, and Amen and Hallelujah, 10 minutes later found us heading north on 93. Tonya initially was awake and looking around, but quickly fell asleep clutching her stripy cat. I couldn’t get the thought out of my head how a beautiful girl like this could end up in an orphanage. Then Joanne chimed in about how anyone in their right mind would just hand over a child to us! (Good point.) Joanne and I talked quietly in the front seat… you know, like parents do. It felt good… almost “right”. We had no idea what we were going to do when we got home, but for this moment, all was well. The Boston skyline faded in the rear view mirror.
I’m pretty sure we had already passed into New Hampshire when we realized that we had nothing at home to feed this poor child@! A quick stop at a Shaw’s Supermarket solved the problem as Joanne ran in to pick up a rotisserie chicken. The scent of cooked chicken wafting in the car started to make Tonya stir, and she was awake when we finally pulled into our driveway around 9:30 PM.
As we opened the doors to the porch and then the kitchen, she walked right in. A barrage of affectionate cats quickly ascended upon her and she knelt down and started petting them while gleefully saying something cute-sounding in Russian. We guided her up the stairs to show her the bathroom and then her own room. Five or more cats followed us in, enthralled with this new little stranger.
As Joanne showed Tonya how to operate things in the bathroom (and tried valiantly yet unsuccessfully to get her to use the toilet), I started preparing mashed potatoes downstairs. When they rejoined me in the kitchen, Joanne was using the labels on the vegetable boxes and the juice boxes to find out what she liked. She immediately recognized corn and opted for fruit punch over milk or apple juice. Joanne showed her the chicken on the counter and conveyed “Do you like chicken?”. Tonya convincingly conveyed “No!”. As we momentarily struggled with what we could feed this child for a main course (and I frantically researched how to say “hot dog” in Russian) [note: I concluded that they just don't say "hot dog" in Russia] , we decided to give her small helping of chicken just to see. Sure enough, she ate it up, along with the mashed potatoes and the corn. When we offered her more, she refused, so we didn’t push it.
Immediately after dinner, Joanne gestured to Tonya, asking if she was tired/sleepy. “Dah”. (Yes) She then brought Tonya upstairs and did the “mom thing”, helping her pick out pajamas and brush her teeth. Another attempt to get Tonya to use the toilet failed, so we guided her to bed. She quickly found her way under the covers and after a goodnight kiss from “Mama Joanne” and “Papa Dave”, we closed the door on our little guest.
Believe it or not, the only thing we could think about after that was… “How can she go that long without using the bathroom?!” Maybe Mama Joanne and I have been old too long to remember how our bladders used to behave.
Tomorrow is another day. If Tonya is up to it, we will bring her to the animal shelter with us in the evening. Tommorow she will also meet our two Saint Bernards, Moose & Taarna… assuming I remember to pick them up from the kennel 
Goodnight!
