We got an unexpected phone call a few days ago. Our Ethiopian friend, Monty – the same one I am currently writing about in the next chapter of my adoption story – was in Austria and wanted to know if there was any way we could meet up before she flew home. Of course there was a way. This was, after all, the woman who saved my younger daughter’s life. I will love her till the day I die. My husband saw her two years ago on his school trip to Ethiopia, but it had been six years for my daughters and me. Here’s a shot of that last visit:
So instead of a lazy Sunday, we all jumped in the car and drove for two hours to see her. We sort of crashed a party being given for her by four Viennese families (and ended up monopolizing her a bit) but they were all gracious about it. They had had her for two days and we only had two hours. It was such a wonderful reunion. Just too short.
As we said goodbye, Monty stuttered out, “Miss C., you . . . your lovely family . . . the most . . . all of you . . . my heart . . . you know what I am saying . . .”