Emmeline, age 20 months
By Amy L. Hatch
I set out for Chamabana in the hour before dawn on Aug. 26, 2006.
Looking back, I don’t think it was a coincidence that the date marked the second anniversary of my father’s death. Losing him to cancer was a terrible, terrible experience — but at the same time it set me free in a lot of ways. Knowing that the worst happened and that I bore it made taking the risk to uproot our lives a lot less scary.
It was dark when I climbed into my minivan with a travel mug, a map and a cargo area filled with the precious items we didn’t want to entrust to the moving company. I crept out of the house and left my sleeping daughter behind, in the care of my mother.
She was so little then, just 20 months old. My husband left for Chambana two weeks prior to my departure and I followed a week before we closed on our house. I needed to be here to supervise painters and movers, to sign the mortgage papers while Channing was in class.
So we left the girl behind.
I remember crying on my way out of town, as Lake Ontario fell away behind me. I headed west with the sun rising to my back and began to count the minutes before our girl would arrive in our new home.
My mother and sister ferried her out to us by plane seven days later, just as we finished unpacking the house. Her room was the exact same shade of pink it had been in our New York home. I fretted the entire week about whether or not she would have a hard time adjusting to our new life here.
Emmeline, just a few days shy of age 5.
That way, I didn’t have to focus on my own fears about living in Urbana.
Emmeline arrived in the care of her grandmother, aunt and uncle. I’ll never forget the moment of our reunion. She looked so small in her stroller.
Over the next year, Emmie was my constant companion as we settled uneasily into our lives here. Without her by my side, I would have collapsed into a puddle of helpless homesickness.
Instead, I held as steady as I could– for her.
Today is Emmeline’s fifth birthday. She is an entirely different person than she was that long-ago day when a plane carried her westward to me. We both are.
Happy birthday, my darling girl. Thank you for keeping me company those first long, lonely days on the prairie, and for all that you do and everything you are, yesterday, today and tomorrow.
Love,
Mama
Amy L. Hatch is a co-founder of chambanamoms.com, and she gets very sentimental over birthdays. She writes “From Here to There,” a column about being a Northeastern girl on the prairie, on Tuesdays. You can reach her at amy@chambanamoms.com.
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Happy Birthday, Em! You are a lucky girl, as your mama is creating such a tribute to you and your brother through her beautiful writing. You might not know it yet, but you will treasure her words when you have babies of your own.
What a wonderful gift you are to your daughter … and she, to you.
Glad I had those Kleenex nearby!
You never fail to make me cry. You were my constant companion when you were small and I was far from home. You are still as close to me as if you were next door, even though you are miles away.
Your Mama.