Page 56 of Eternally London

Eternally.

London

“I thought I was happy before, but this—a world with Loïc by my side and the most beautiful human in the world as my daughter—is true happiness.”

—London Berkeley

I pull out my phone to take a picture of the tree. I wish Loïc were here to see it. He should be home any minute.

We’ve only been home a week, and he’s been gone for most of it. He has a lot to catch up on—new soldiers to meet, previous ones to check up on. I’m sure a lot happened while he was gone for five and a half months. He has great people working for the nonprofit we set up to help veterans with PTSD, but I know he feels like he needs to make up for being gone for so long.

Lindi places another ornament on a bottom branch, and I laugh. The entire Christmas tree is empty besides the bottom row of branches that have about sixty ornaments dangling from them. It’s the funniest thing, and I’m going to keep it just as it is.

“Good job, Lin!” I say as I snap another picture.

Lindi’s beautiful smile shines back at me. My daughter smiles constantly, and it’s the sweetest.

My daughter.

I can finally say that without fear that she’ll be taken from me. I can finally say it with nothing but gratitude in my heart. We’re home. She’s ours. Nothing can change that now.

I swear, my heart hovered on the outside of my chest every day while we were in Africa. I was terrified that something would go wrong, that she would be taken, that something in the process would fall through, and we’d lose her. I don’t know how I would have come back from that. I’m so happy that I don’t ever have to find out.

According to my lawyers, the adoption went smoother than any adoption they’d worked on. They said it was completed in record time.

Lindi places a Santa ornament on a bottom branch that is already occupied by six other dangling pieces. She looks to me, wide-eyed and happy. She claps for herself with the biggest grin.

“Yay!” I clap with her.

“Loo, Ma.” She points to her masterpiece. To anyone else, her words might sound like gibberish, but I know she’s saying,Look, Mom.

She’s actually an amazing communicator for her age. I could tell she started to understand English early on. No one in Africa really knew her age, but they guessed that she was born in May of the previous year. So, we picked May 16 as the date to put on her birth certificate. Sixteen has always been one of my favorite numbers, and Lindi is definitely my favorite person in the world. That makes her nineteen months old now.

“I see it.” I nod. “You’re doing a great job. So pretty! Are you ready to put the presents under the tree?” I point to the pile of brightly wrapped boxes.

“Yeah!” She grins, running over to the presents.

I don’t think she has any idea what Christmas means or understands why we’re putting decorations on a tree that’s indoors. I’m sure she doesn’t get why these pretty boxes go under the tree or that they hold treasures inside. But she will. She’s faced everything she’s been through with courage and a smile. She’s never fussed, even during the two days of travel back to the States. I’m in awe of her really. This little girl has more spirit than I will ever have.

She’s going to change the world someday. She’s already completely transformed mine.

I help Lindi place the presents under the tree. When we’re finished, I hold her on my hip as we stand back and admire the twinkling lights through the evergreen’s branches.

“Pretty?” I ask her. “Wait until tonight when it’s dark. The lights will twinkle like stars.”

Lindi rests her head against my shoulder and yawns.

“Ready for naptime, baby girl?” I carry her into her room.

I had designers come in and transform her room into what I call Safari Princess while we were still in Tanzania, so it was ready for her homecoming. She seemed to love it, but she loves everything. It was important for me to incorporate parts of her native country into this space. I want her to always be proud of who she is and where she came from. Loïc and I both agree that it’s important, and we’re going to try our best to teach her about her culture. Ideally, we’d take her back to Africa to visit as she grew up, but it’s not safe for her. I’m hoping the conditions will eventually change so that, someday, she can go visit her beautiful country without fear.

I lay Lindi in her bed. I kiss her forehead and then each cheek before kissing her lips. It’s something I started doing at the beginning, and I think she finds comfort in the routine.

“You rest, sweet girl. When you wake up, Mommy will be here for you, okay? You are safe. We’re going to have a fun night, so it’s good that you’re resting up.”

I kiss her again before saying, “Mimi upendo daima.” Translated from Swahili, it means,I will love you always.

“Mi oo da,” she mimics.

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