It was one of the busiest weeks of our lives, almost like planning a wedding. With three children graduating this year, and this being the famous "Winter Homecoming" week, our house was not only a buzz...the whole community was a huge hive as well. And they should have been. After a couple of bad years in a sports slump, our althletes were coming out strong in basketball again. So "Restoring the Roar" (we are known as the Maple Valley Lions), was beginning to be a highly successful campaign and school spirit was not only coming back, but thriving as well. So homecoming week was a myriad of odd contests, special "dress up days", and voting for the senior class King and Queen candidates. Every school in the valley as well as child was involved in this huge event. The excitement was all over the community, but no household was buzzing more than ours. As fate would have it, we had two children running for the homecoming court; our daughter Timara and our son Arden Dragos...
I watched her gaze at herself in the full length mirrior as I laced up her exquisite princess, blue, ball gown. She looked breathtaking. Her slender figure fit perfectly into her dress and looked absolutely brilliant against her dark coffee skin. Tears welled up in my eyes..."it'll have to be shortened," I struggled to say. But she did not speak. Timara just looked at herself over and over as if she was living a dream....
I remember meeting her for the first time. Oh, I had seen pictures, but photos never do a child justice.
It is their spirit and their personality that makes a child really who they are meant to be. When I first saw her, she was chasing James all over. He had made her mad and she was gonna "get him". Timara was running and running chasing her brother, when all of the sudden she stopped dead in her tracks and stared high up into my face. "You's gonna be my momma? " She asked all bright eyed and bushy tailed. I nodded. "You's white!" she exclaimed matter of factly climbing into my arms and snuggled her head close into my neck. "I's gonna love you!" she whispered. And that was it- I was sold. Whatever this child wanted...she was gonna get. If I couldn't buy it, well, I'd just steal it. She had stole my heart. This child was my daughter forever.
She was my little spit fire. She was a little bit of hell all wrapped up in beautiful. She was amazing. Anything she tried she could do and if she couldn't, she wouldn't stop trying until she mastered the task. She was super athletically talented. She was graceful. She was happy. And she was freakishly strong too. But sometimes when she got angry- she got mean, and that became a struggle for us on a daily basis during her toddler years. She had every boy in our household on the ropes and they never dared mess with her because she could "take them out". She could and she did on several occassions if she felt it was necessary. I watched her once grab the skin on James' neck, twist it, and punch him right in the nose in one quick sweep. It was humorous in a way, but scarey too. But as the years rolled on and we channeled that energy through various sporting events, my little tomboy became a beautiful independent young woman.
She spoke with a hispanic, ghetto, foul mouthed tongue, and was hard at first to understand. So when you asked her a question sometimes she spoke both english and spanish. Quite a challenge for someone who was barely fluent in english.
I remember when she used to get ill, she would puke, and never tell anyone. All of the sudden we'd hear something, click on the light in her room, and there she'd be...tears streaming down her face covered in puke. She'd never yell. Never cry. Just sit and wait for someone to come clean her up. One Christmas she spiked a very high fever and I drove her to the ER at two in the morning. "I's sick?" she said as she snuggled in my lap. "Yes, Tateebutt- you's sick," I'd say as I stroked her little head. Later, I got sick too and she said matter of factly, "You's sick now too Momma!"...
She could cuss like a sailer at her brothers, but if someone messed with them, or they were hurt.- she was as gentle and kind as could be. I remember once when a kid called Dragos ("Fados" as Timara used to call him) a "retard" and she jumped on top of the boy, got him down pushing sand in his mouth yelling, "nobody calls him dat...nobody never!" The kid got up and apolojized to Dragos. My daughter grabbed HER brother by the arm and waltzed away, having saved the world. You see Timara (he called her Dimarna) was her brother's protector. Nobody was gonna mess with her brother. He didn't fight it...nope because it's pretty cool to have your own personal body guard even if she was a girl.
I watched her as she stood there...gazing in that mirror...all grown up...all grown up...and I pinned her dress and prepared to make her a true Queen.
Dragos, my Dragos, put on his tux. I bought it online having sold a few of my own dresses to pay for it. It was huge in some places and I knew that I would have to really work some magic getting it to fit just perfect for a King. He put it on...it was too long and the pants drooped. But he grinned from ear to ear? "Think I'll win Momma?" he asked in a small quiet voice. I choked back the sob in my throat..."I think you've got a good chance Bubby, " I answered as I pinned and prodded.
My son. The only thing in my life that I've ever been absolutely sure about. Oh, how I loved this son. The son who was never to have lived. The son that the orphanage in Moldova said to "walk away...he is an idiot and will die". The son I could never give up on and waited a year for. This son was nominated for Homecoming King. I just kept pinning and remembering....
''This is your son Kari...you said a child, any child, and this is the son I've chosen..." I could hear God's voice as clear as a bell. All of the reasons not to adopt him never ever mattered to me. He can't talk. He can't walk. He rocks his head. But he laughs and he' s happy and there is just something about him...your son....he is your son.
Dragos. The son who overcame every obstacle he had to to fit in and be "one of the guys". They said he'd never talk. He spoke fluent english in six months after the adoption. They said he'd never walk. He walked perfectly seven months after the adoption. He'll be an idiot they said. He'll graduate in May with his class. Oh how I have loved raising him. But being a parent to him and even a sibling to him has meant great committment and patience. I had to trade sewing so he could have horse therapy to improve his gait. I traded sewing so that he could have deep massage therapy to help improve muscles destroyed by hundreds of shots of penecillon in his legs when he was young. Tim worked and then would come home exhausted and take Dragos to hills and parks. He would walk him up and down- up and down, to build week leg muscles from being left in a crib sixteen hours a day. His siblings had to listen to him repeat questions and then answer them over and over because Dragos would forget that he had already asked them. They shielded him from kids who were mean to him, when we lived in a different state, and they never let him know that he was different. They have spent hours and hours helping him with homework and telling him facts over and over. But mostly, mostly, they have just treated him normal. They have loved him and punched him and just been a sibling to a brother who some would be embarrassed about. He never ever knew that he was different...they never let him know.
So here he was standing in this tux. this would be the biggest moment of his life. I prayed that win or lose...he would be proud of who he was and who he would become in the future.
We stood behind them, Tim and I , watching from the sidelines in the gym. "And the 2013 Homecoming Queen is...Timara Burd!" the crowd roared with applause and whoops! Tim and I began to puddle up with tears, but before we could even catch our breath, "And your 2013 Winter Homecoming King is...Arden Dragos Burd!" The crowd exploded! Timara began to cry as they were placing her crown on her head and also placing his medallion around his neck. Tim looked at me and started bawling...I was bawling... and we held each other forever as we watched Dragos and Timara hug and cry. The crowd jumped to their feet and gave them a standing ovation! People were shaking our hands. Hugging them. They raced to embrace their grandparents. Their peers had elected them! My children! Two children who had every chance to fail to thrive. Two children whom by all early standards shouldn't have been here at all. My children. Our children.
I watched through tear stained, mascara running eyes as my children were surrounded by their friends and community. I watched as teachers, coaches, peers, and even strangers congratulated them. I watched my daughter Timara once again protect and guide her brother through the crowds... to us! "I did it Momma! You happy? You surprised?" Dragos asked me through his tears. "Me and Timara won, Momma.! Did you see it?" I nodded and just kept hugging him. I looked over at my daughter so poised and happy and realized something I had never ever told her...something I'd always taken for granted...she was much more than his sister...she was his Hero. And now to share the spotlight with him, well it was God's way of saying to her. "Well done, my good and faithful servant."
That night, after the excitement had died down, I walked into her room and quietly took her hands and whispered, "If you never do anything again, I do not care...I have never ever been prouder of you than I am tonight...and I love you....". I held her for the longest time ..and she knew that I knew what this meant to her. You see his victories were her victories because when you have a special needs sibling every achievement is every family members.
People all over the world want to have a child...please look into adoption. the rewards are remarkably endless. And if you're lucky...real lucky... you will recieve a couple of crowns as well.
