"Super! Congratulations!"
I happened to review Yali’s nutritional guide in his medical paperwork the other day. Recommended for breakfast: chocolate. I suddenly felt less guilty for those occasional unconventional breakfasts I’ve had while down here; just blending in with the Colombian diet.
Somewhere after eleven o’clock that morning we arrived at the American Embassy. The stars and stripes looked a little strange floating in the Bogota wind as we arrived. Maybe it was because we were American, maybe it was because we were picking up an adoption visa – I don’t know what it was – but we were allowed to butt ahead in every single line. No one seemed annoyed. But then again, no one has seemed annoyed with us for anything these past three and a half weeks.
We were prepared to wait several hours, as suggested. Ten minutes after “signing in”, we heard Yali’s name over the PA system. Two o’clock. His visa would be ready at two o’clock.
In celebration, we treated our driver, Andres, to lunch at a place he recommended: El Corral. After some huge and tasty burgers, Andres brought us to the park where Yali ran around for awhile, trying out all the slides. I sat on a cement bench, taking in the last sights and sounds of Colombia. Including that one guy on a motorcycle who keeps chanting through a megaphone around the city: some foreboding message to the citizens; sounded like the call to prayer back in Nazareth, or like that political activist that one time in Grenada. But, no. I finally realized he just was selling honey. “Miel”, honey.
Two o’clock: Andres dropped Oxbear at the entrance, telling him carefully where to go and what to say in Spanish.
Another ten minutes, I saw Andres throw both thumbs up in the air in exhalation as he saw Oxbear walking back to the minivan. “SUPER! CONGRATULATIONS!”
We gave him a Cardinals ball cap in thanks for all his efforts for us. He knew what it was immediately, “San Luis? Cardinals!”
An hour later Oxbear had plane tickets booked for 10:45 that night. I threw all of our bags together, managing to squeeze it all in for the three flights back north.
We were coming home. Home Sweet St. Louis Home.