Autumn Leaves
Tears fill my eyes as I watch the children pour off the cement steps of the school and engulf Alexei and Pavel. The youngest kids pull on their hands and arms, and the tall ones try to bump shoulders…just to get a touch.
A few minutes later the six year olds pass with their teacher to lunch. They stop repeatedly to reassess and she commands their march to be less like a six year old might march…
Children come continually to the car window to tap and peer…I am sworn to solitude by Sasha’s nap and his fear of children grabbing him, so I agreed to stay with him. Finally I get out of the car and hug a few kids who are still lingering.
Rya slips by and tells me her aunt came to visit. I can see she is justifying her choice to live here. That someone loves her. That she is worth something. I heard from other kids that she already has had major breakdowns regarding her boyfriend Kolya. He is cruising the parking lot on a one speed looking tough and tuned out. He scares the crap out of me.
If Rya loses it more, the orphanage will have no choice but to send her to the psych hospital. Will we step in? Will they let us? Would we open our hearts? I can’t say…
Sasha wakes and we trek down the worn dirt road past tired dachas amidst new log cabins with incredible ornate window frames…we find the singletrack to the river and follow the tall grass talking about weather and bugs , caterpillars, falling leaves, the seasons and nature. It’s strange to have this time to move at the pace of a 3 year old. We look at everything. Strange shaped logs, baby frogs (are they being born now Mama?), dried flowers, rust colored maple leaves. The river moves lazily and we pretend to fish. Even here there are bits of litter and we have a long talk about why people leave their traces everywhere. Sasha says he will change the world. I say I will help. He says he can do it himself. Fine I say, come visit Papa and I on our olive farm in Umbria…
We scramble up a very steep trail to a beautiful hardwood forest. There are many pieces of soft worn wood to collect for our nature workshop. Our massive basement has finally been organized enough to make spaces for work…and Sasha’s table for sculpting, and his newest passion, carving, is full of woodland collections. I watch him run and roll and think painfully of the two children I worked with this morning in Ermolino. Both boys are about Sasha’s age, but neither can stand or sit alone…In the quiet basement of the baby house I can coo and roll their limbs and try to trick their muscles into letting go for a moment …to relearn movement..to let go of tension. It is an impossible task, as time is not my friend, and once a week is like dabbing at the great wall with a tiny hammer…will I even make a dent? While I worked today I wondered about how to get them clean clothes, and cream for their eczema and soft pants for their spindly legs. The amazing thing is they are both so sweet and compliant…Unaware that they are doomed to a life in institutions, with little chance for real rehab. I tell Pavel that to have a goal to get one of these kids out of the system into a better rehab center, as I know there are a few beginning would be a good start.
The leaves are falling…and Sasha and I stand in the forest quietly and listen and watch. A ladybug alights on his arm and we marvel at her beauty.
Sasha says he really likes this forest.
We pass a fox hole and examine some fresh scat.
Sasha asks if the kids from the orphanage come here a lot and I explain they can’t leave without a teacher. We both imagine those kinds of rules.
The Indian summer day is rolling to an end and we head out of the forest. I carry him piggy back back to the hordes of kids standing at our car and plop him in. Pavel and Alexei have started setting up the new computer class and have many stories to tell about how the teacher wants more money if she has to have those in her classroom.
Andrei has seen his friends and he is glowing..as only he can do…I think he is darn lucky to have this bevy of girls who accept and adore him absolutely. Not easy to be a different type of boy in these parts…
Tanya is still talking about her play this morning with the kids in Ermolino…she has a favorite named Nikita who clings to her like a baby bear cub.
The kids wave goodbye and ask if we can return tomorrow.
Not tomorrow says Pavel.
But soon.
A few minutes later the six year olds pass with their teacher to lunch. They stop repeatedly to reassess and she commands their march to be less like a six year old might march…
Children come continually to the car window to tap and peer…I am sworn to solitude by Sasha’s nap and his fear of children grabbing him, so I agreed to stay with him. Finally I get out of the car and hug a few kids who are still lingering.
Rya slips by and tells me her aunt came to visit. I can see she is justifying her choice to live here. That someone loves her. That she is worth something. I heard from other kids that she already has had major breakdowns regarding her boyfriend Kolya. He is cruising the parking lot on a one speed looking tough and tuned out. He scares the crap out of me.
If Rya loses it more, the orphanage will have no choice but to send her to the psych hospital. Will we step in? Will they let us? Would we open our hearts? I can’t say…
Sasha wakes and we trek down the worn dirt road past tired dachas amidst new log cabins with incredible ornate window frames…we find the singletrack to the river and follow the tall grass talking about weather and bugs , caterpillars, falling leaves, the seasons and nature. It’s strange to have this time to move at the pace of a 3 year old. We look at everything. Strange shaped logs, baby frogs (are they being born now Mama?), dried flowers, rust colored maple leaves. The river moves lazily and we pretend to fish. Even here there are bits of litter and we have a long talk about why people leave their traces everywhere. Sasha says he will change the world. I say I will help. He says he can do it himself. Fine I say, come visit Papa and I on our olive farm in Umbria…
We scramble up a very steep trail to a beautiful hardwood forest. There are many pieces of soft worn wood to collect for our nature workshop. Our massive basement has finally been organized enough to make spaces for work…and Sasha’s table for sculpting, and his newest passion, carving, is full of woodland collections. I watch him run and roll and think painfully of the two children I worked with this morning in Ermolino. Both boys are about Sasha’s age, but neither can stand or sit alone…In the quiet basement of the baby house I can coo and roll their limbs and try to trick their muscles into letting go for a moment …to relearn movement..to let go of tension. It is an impossible task, as time is not my friend, and once a week is like dabbing at the great wall with a tiny hammer…will I even make a dent? While I worked today I wondered about how to get them clean clothes, and cream for their eczema and soft pants for their spindly legs. The amazing thing is they are both so sweet and compliant…Unaware that they are doomed to a life in institutions, with little chance for real rehab. I tell Pavel that to have a goal to get one of these kids out of the system into a better rehab center, as I know there are a few beginning would be a good start.
The leaves are falling…and Sasha and I stand in the forest quietly and listen and watch. A ladybug alights on his arm and we marvel at her beauty.
Sasha says he really likes this forest.
We pass a fox hole and examine some fresh scat.
Sasha asks if the kids from the orphanage come here a lot and I explain they can’t leave without a teacher. We both imagine those kinds of rules.
The Indian summer day is rolling to an end and we head out of the forest. I carry him piggy back back to the hordes of kids standing at our car and plop him in. Pavel and Alexei have started setting up the new computer class and have many stories to tell about how the teacher wants more money if she has to have those in her classroom.
Andrei has seen his friends and he is glowing..as only he can do…I think he is darn lucky to have this bevy of girls who accept and adore him absolutely. Not easy to be a different type of boy in these parts…
Tanya is still talking about her play this morning with the kids in Ermolino…she has a favorite named Nikita who clings to her like a baby bear cub.
The kids wave goodbye and ask if we can return tomorrow.
Not tomorrow says Pavel.
But soon.