Chika's father is alive. We were always told he was dead. Now differently!
We drove to where Chika was born. Stepping out in front of me was her father. I asked aboutChika's infancy. He answered every inquiry with very few words. I didn't ask why he didn't want Chika back. I reminded myself he had lost his partner in that earthquake, the mother of his children.
I explained the reason why I came—Chika's medical condition—the brain tumor(肿瘤). Iexplained that her life could be in the balance. I said I had a hard question. If Chika should not survive,is it important to him that she be buried here in Haiti?
"It doesn't matter,"he said."Whatever you think."
I eventually came to my utmost mission. I wanted him to see his daughter—and her to see him—perhaps because, deep down, I doubted about another chance. Yet as we drove back together, there was part of me feeling as if I had been nudged(轻推) to the side of the picture. Although Janine and I have done with Chika, this man has a certain claim that we never will.
Yours, not yours! The paperwork at the orphanage(孤儿院) was signed by me. It obligates us to nurture, feed, educate, and protect you. But in the end, it is a document, not parenthood. Yours, not yours!We wrestled with this question many times, Chika. Remember what you once asked? How did you find me?I promised myself you would never feel lost again.
After two hours, the father walked over, shook my hand, and left. That night, Chika rested her head upon my shoulder and after a few seconds mumbled,"Mister Mitch? What will you do while I sleep?"
"I'll read,"I said."And think about how much I love you."
She nodded, her eyes glowed."That's what I'll do too."
At that moment,I didn't care who belonged to whom. I was hers, even if she were not mine.
