A door closes

I should be packing right now. I should be taking the pictures off the wall and stowing them. I should be purging paper and folders but I can't focus on even such a simple task.

You want to believe that there's a plan and that the universe is guiding you along to some goal. When I look in E's eyes I believe we were destined. Then and now I got the paperwork ready. Clearances and evaluations fly across towns and get stamps of gold seal and ribbons of officialdom. Each delay meant the celestial clock ticked closer to the appointed hour. Now, I fly through the papers, no hitches. Everything runs smooth and efficiently. We approach that magical referral moment and tragedy strikes.

The agency is raided. Fourty-six children are confiscated like illegal drugs. Fourty-six children linked forever to families across the globe. That could have been me. That could have been my child. My heart aches and I feel lucky and guilty. The bureaucracy frightens me as it never had before. Politicians are cracking down they say. What is the truth? The description of the orphanage sounds nothing like the happy, clean place that I visited. None of it makes sense to me.

I pray for the children and the day the families will be reuinted. Guatemala is a beautiful and dangerous place.

It will be a long time before I go back and I wonder if I'll ever tell E about any of this. I suspect I won't tell him much at all.

Time to pack.