Dear Willa~
At this moment, I am sitting in bed at 1 a.m. Your sister is next to me because it is simply too hot for her to sleep in the room upstairs. She was asleep when I crawled into bed beside her with my little white Apple laptop and my Pottery Barn catalogs. (Don't judge me, little one. You don't even know me yet.)
Now, she is awake. She is smiling at me, finishing her cup of water and instructing Miss Panda to go to sleep because it is very late and babies should be asleep.
This afternoon, shopping at CVS on Main Street, your sister and I found ourselves on the aisle of baby items.
Maybe by the time you get to know her, your sister will have mellowed. (ha! aahahahahaha! and ha!) This afternoon, at age 3 and 2 months, she is a white-hot laser of toddler intensity.
She did not want to leave the baby supplies. She pulled a package of bottle nipples from the shelf.
"Are these pacifiers?" she asked.
"No, they're bottle nipples."
"We need to buy these for my Willa," she said.
I took her hand, and as I led her to your dad, who was standing at the front of the store waiting for photos to print, I explained that, as soon as we get word that we can come meet you, she and I will go to the store and make sure we have everything you need.
She thinks about you all the time, Mei Mei. she is saving her favorite dresses that she has outgrown, and she knows just where your crib will go in the bedroom you'll share.
She has instructed me that you will need your own blanket and bear.
She writes letters to China on her computer keyboard. She petitions for your adoption several times a week.
Had I known how long our wait for you would be, I would not have told her about it as early as I did. But that is what it is.
A couple days ago, we were getting ice cream up the street at a little joint that caters to locals, tolerates tourists, and adores children. Outside, there is a swingset and jungle gym, picnic tables, a deep porch and a little wishing well made of stacked bricks painted white.
Your sister found a nickel in the sand under the swings and, without a word to me, made a B-line for the wishing well and threw the nickel over the edge.
"What did you wish for, Bee?" I asked her.
"That Willa could come home and be with her family."
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