Romania Hangover

Today I had a few memories come back to me today throughout the day:

1) In my Sex Ed class we were talking about the importance of educating people. Not so much on "abstinence only" or "safe sex only" side debate but how we need to get kids to understand that what they do affects people more than they think. He mentioned teens that get pregnant and still do risky things that affect their babies. I immediately thought of my little girl Vallie. Not only did her mother drink with her, but her younger brother also has FAS. Several other kids in the orphanage have similar sad stories where parents made poor choices (incest, affairs etc) that resulted in these kids being there. While some are there just because of mere chance, that statement never hit more home to me than today, and I wanted more than anything to get on my "Romania soap box" and share that with my class...but I didn't. Instead I just spent the last bit of the class back in Romania, thinking about my kids who were just getting up for another day without BYU fetele to play with them.

2) While walking down a hallway, (the JFSB) someone was whistling which carries very loud and long in the long, tile, bare-walled hallway. For some reason, the notes I heard, and the distant echo I heard, it almost sounded like the chime that would go off just before a train would arrive or depart at the train station in Romania. As ghetto and totally communism-era those trains were, those were the best trips in a little booth with 4 other fabulous girls talking for the 8 hour trip we took to Brasov while we traveled through the beautiful countryside.

3) After teaching Vallie how to say "ta-da", it became part of my regular vocabulary myself. Sometimes I even catch myself doing the arms with it...the sad part is that I do it, and no one hears me because I say it quiet like she did. And if they do, people figure I'm just being....wierd I guess. It's fabulous to be back with my Romania girls and be able to imitate our kids mannerisms and they know exactly who I'm referring to (not in a mean way of course).

Some days, I really miss Romania, and I procrastinate my homework to once again go through my orphanage and apartment pictures. I've seen them time and time again, and they never get old. Other days, I feel heartless as I feel like I am dealing okay with this and I hear of other girls in my group who struggle seriously with adjusting and coping. My heart goes out to them as I wish I could feel the way they did so that I can better support them and understand. I am grateful I have been able to mostly carry on with life while still missing my experience, but sometimes, I feel like I was never sad enough.