Hello, Rose

Our new guide’s eyes grew a little wide when she saw the photo of Rose on Jacob’s phone. “Oh…” she said. “She looks like a good eater.”

Halfway down a rainy drive between the airport and our hotel in Xi’an, we had just finished a two-hour flight from Beijing, and it was time to meet Rose. Our new guide provided instruction on the next five days in town as our driver pushed the van into herds of cars wherever he felt like it. It wasn’t Colombian driving – that was insane – but it was a hundred times two inches short of a fender bender each time we went out. Still, these drivers knew how to drive.

At the hotel we had a few hours to recollect. Enough time to pack up gifts for the orphanage director and caretakers – deodorant, Marlboros, and Jelly Bellies. As instructed. That’s what they want, that’s what they get.

Somewhere between the three o’clock and four o’clock hours, we were sitting in a quiet civil office when Rose was carried through the doorway. Flashback to Joe, June 2015. Like Joe, no smile. And also like Joe, she accepted the gift of the stuffed donkey from her brothers with little coaxing. We let her breathe a little. Nine, ten pairs of eyes watching her face for any sign of tears was probably overwhelming. But an hour later we left the office, Rose carried in the arms of her new daddy, after Mama walked a block to the shop down the street for a bottle.

“She is almost three,” our guide sighed. “She does not need milk anymore.”

But for Rose, milk was still on the menu. Comfort food.

Up in the hotel room, Papa Bear entertained Rose while Mama sorted muchos Chinese yuan with the guide and bank representative. Somewhere between counting out stacks of U.S. 100s and Chinese 100s, I realized how sketchy the whole thing could look. But the transactions were completed, and suddenly we had Rose to ourselves.

It was coming. The big old crocodile tears. She was a smart kid. She knew what was happening. We held her together while she sobbed for two minutes. Then it was over. An hour later she was slurping down wanton soup and sampling French fries while organizing her new Peppa Pig figurines. Break-through.

Or as Jacob summarized, “The way to a girl’s heart is through her stomach.”