Tongue Tied

Welcome to Whidbey Island, Washington state Naval base. The artificial yellow glow of street lights glares through the rolling fog. In an hour or two the sun will be high enough to burn the fog away, but for now, it stays, haunting the doorsteps of these honest military folk. It lays especially thick on the doorstep of one couple.

A newly promoted lieutenant commander and his loving wife huddled together under their covers against the encroaching cold carried with the fog. They’d been trying for years to have a baby, and just this past month his wife had had her second miscarriage. She dreamed of filling their meticulous nursery with the life and mess of a young baby girl. The man didn’t dream, he was too tired, working long hours. The man suddenly snored loudly, startling the old woman standing on their doorstep.

The fog seemed to clutch to her and enswathe her seeping into the bundle she clutched so tightly to her chest. Doubting thoughts swarmed her mind: Is this the right house? Are these truly the right people? Should she really leave this bundle? What if they don’t get up for hours? She glanced down at the bundle and the worried lines in her forehead softened and she smiled. A darling baby girl lay fast asleep clutching to a charm in her sleep.

The woman’s worry lines reappeared as she gently pried the charm from the sleeping child’s hands. What’s this? She recognized the symbol, the rare metal, and she made a decision right then. With her decision the charm began to warm her hand. As she gently laid the baby on the doorstep she lifted her young head and placed the charm over her heart and whispered a word in a strange language into the child’s ear. In a flash of light, the charm was gone and the child shrieked awake, crying for all the night to hear. The old woman gave a final glance to the child, tucked an envelope into a fold in the blankets and disappeared into the mist.

Mr. and Mrs. Thornwood,

I know you are good honest people, and I sympathize with your struggles to have a child. So here, I give you this child; my darling baby girl. I am unable to care for her so I ask you the greatest favor a Mother can. Please raise my daughter as your own, raise her to be polite, to not hold grudge; raise her to speak with confidence, and to listen with an open mind; raise her to be a woman, strong and willful; raise her to be brave, raise her to be independent, But most of all, please, oh please, raise her with Love.
With love

PS. Congratulations, Mrs. Thornwood, on your promotion