Red anthers stain the delicate white petals of the Lilium Roma Lilies with their “paprika,”
yet somehow the flowers are still able to hold the name of being the star of our dining table’s
centerpiece. We all have our own name for it. Dorothy calls it lily dust, while I call it paprika.
And little Flynn calls it red snow. Probably because the world is magnified through her
adventurous eyes and imaginative mind. Though, there’s something different about the lilies this year, there are only fifteen in the bouquet, rather than sixteen. Maybe Naomi lost track of what number I was turning, and fell short of one lily?
I shake it off. Downstairs is quiet and peace washes over me. I’m always the first to
arrive downstairs on my birthday for two reasons. First, I’m utterly delighted to find the new
type of lily that Naomi decides to send me for my birthday each year. Opening the front door to the sweet creamy aroma of the fresh florals is heavenly bliss. Some people say the lilies have a bitter waxy scent, but their subtle honeyed fragrance awakens my mornings. Second, as I sit on my front porch waiting for dawn to break through, the splendor of amber and the array of pinks in the sky remind me that this year will be a fresh start. A new season beholding doors yearning to be walked through.
I take a good look at my reality around the still dining room. Sometimes, it hits me like a
pile of bricks: I’m living the American life that I never thought I would. My name is no longer
银水仙 (Yin Shui Xian), but was changed to Elizabeth twelve years ago when the Forester
family adopted my sister and me into their home. I’m living in a two-story house in Cincinnati, Ohio which has a basement, an attic, and the most charming backyard. And I’m fluent in English. It’s hard to believe that Chinese is my second language and English my first. I haven’t visited my hometown of Tianjin, China where I was born, in more than a decade. But most significantly, Naomi, my oldest sister, and I haven’t seen each other ever since we were separated in the orphanage.
Flynn comes bolting down the stairs in her polka dot one-piece pajamas and runs up to
embrace me with a warm hug. Dorothy follows after her, drowsily walking down and yawning.
“Did you like the lilies? Lilium Romas are divine,” Dorothy says tiredly, gesturing
towards the bouquet that I’m transferring to a yellow vase with water.
“When did you become an expert in floral types?” I ask her, astonished. Dorothy bites
her lips, and squeezes her eyes shut, then opens them.
“I saw the UPS guy deliver them at dawn. And then I may have looked them up on
Google.” She winks at me and lets out a chuckle, while Flynn blows at the red anthers releasing their “red snow.” “Happy birthday sis,” Dorothy gives me a tight hug and smiles. Mom and Dad begin coming down the stairs, and Mom’s face lights up when she sees me. She opens her arm for me to embrace her.
“Morning Lisbeth! 16, can you believe it?” she squeals and kisses my forehead. My
entire family calls me Lisbeth because Flynn can’t pronounce the “E” in my name yet.
Dad walks past me as he’s on his way to make coffee and pats my shoulder, “Hey! How
you feeling?”
“Strangely, I thought I’d feel older, no different than yesterday, but I think it’ll kick in
after a week or two.” I nod and shrug my shoulders.
I walk over to the kitchen where Mom is already cooking my favorite Shakshuka dish
that she only cooks on special occasions such as today. Once breakfast is prepared, we pray
together and dive into the two dishes of Shakshuka Mom cooked, one with serrano peppers, and one without, for sweet Flynn. The dinner table is silent until Mom pops the questions that I’ve been dreading to answer but will also lighten the burden I’ve been carrying for the past twelve years.
“So Lis, Dad and I got you something small but we wanted to ask you what big gift you’d
want since it’s your Sweet 16! It can be anything.” she pauses to take a bite and mouths to me when Flynn’s not looking but instead playing with a blob of feta cheese, “Flynn wants to go to Disneyland.” I grin, but it’s forced because a million different thoughts are going through my head about how I’m going to tell Mom and Dad what I want for my 16th birthday. I look down at my plate and eye Dorothy who glances at me fast. I try to catch her attention, and then she gives me a tiny reassuring nod.
Along with the bell peppers and tomatoes, I swallow down my fear of what responses
will come. I clear my throat. “Well, it’s been twelve years now, and I decided that I want to find out more about my biological family.” After letting out my burning desire, I realized I couldn’t have been more blunt.
Flynn’s head pops up and says in a confused tone, “But we’re your family.” Little Flynn
doesn’t know that Dorothy and I are adopted yet. Mom and Dad are planning on telling her
when she turns five next year.
Dorothy looks down at her plate, playing with a piece of runny yolk with her fork, which
she never does because she usually gobbles up runny eggs since they are her absolute favorite. Mom’s expression hasn’t changed from the time I finished talking to the time Flynn stops. Confusion, sadness, and astonishment wash over her face, and Dad squeezes her hand.
The rickety dining chair breaks the awkward silence as Dad gets up from his seat.
“Hey, umm... Flynn let’s go play with the new stuffed animals that Grammy sent you for
Easter,” he suggests.
“Okay!” Flynn squirms out of her seat, clueless about what’s going on, and follows Dad
up the stairs. Dad pats Mom’s shoulder and kisses her head, leaving with Flynn. My eyes follow the two as their bodies disappear up the staircase. I shift my gaze towards Mom, who’s still speechless. Why is she reacting so weirdly? Why is she so shocked? Didn’t she see it coming sooner or later? What did I even expect her reaction to be in the first place?
From my peripheral vision, I can see Dorothy staring at me, wondering what I’m going to
say or do next. Mom blinks and lets out a deep breath. She begins to speak in a calm, but shaky manner, “Honey, we already told you. When your dad and I adopted you and Dorothy, the orphanage didn’t give us any records holding information about your parents.”
Dorothy speaks for me, “We know, but Lis and I want to see if we can go back to the
orphanage and try to find more information about where we were born and where our parents might live.”
I nod and add, “Yeah, you never know, I mean, maybe our parents came back to look for
us too right?”
“But we are your family. Aren’t we enough for you?” Mom’s voice quivers in
frustration. Tears stream out of her eyes that she wipes with her sweater.
“Think about it. Please?” I ask, but Mom doesn’t answer. Instead, she bolts upstairs and
softly shuts the door of her and Dad’s master bedroom, not wanting Flynn to hear her anger.
Dorothy comforts me, “Don’t be discouraged Lis, it’s gonna take time for Mom to accept
the fact that we want to learn more about our real parents.”
“I know.” I give her a small hug and stare at the baby-blue ceiling of my bedroom for the
rest of the morning. All I can think about is Naomi, who seems to not have forgotten about me after twelve years. I wonder if I’ll ever see my other sister again. Not sure where my mind is at right now, I stare at the ceiling in silence. That is until someone knocks on my door. By the sound of the soft three knocks, I know it’s Mom and a hopeful spark ignites within me. Maybe she’ll say yes this time. I open the door. Instead, it’s Dorothy, telling me to come down for dinner. She doesn’t say a word except that, “Dad made green chile chicken enchiladas.”
Mom must be crestfallen and discouraged for Dad to be making dinner tonight. He never
cooks, and when he does it’s his one and only perfected dish that he knows how to make...
enchiladas. Don’t get me wrong, they’re delicious, but he rarely cooks them. Dad’s enchiladas are calling my name as I take a seat at the dining table, screaming, “Eat me!” Though the first thing I notice isn’t the delicious sight of bubbling cheese, but the fact that Mom is smiling as I come sit down. A forced smile, for Flynn who’s sitting across from her. I take my usual seat next to Mom, Dorothy sits next to Flynn, and Dad takes a seat at the head of the table.
It’s as if nothing happened this morning.
Dad prays this time, and we all take turns serving ourselves in silence as the clanking of
cutlery fills the dinnertime conversation. Flynn zooms up the stairs since she has already eaten Dad’s other specialty, boxed Annie’s mac and cheese, beforehand. So Dad begins to say, “We decided that both of you guys are old enough to travel to Tianjin and visit the orphanage you came from, but you must be careful since it’s a long journey to arrive there.” A warm smile shines across Dad’s face and a sad smile across Mom’s. Her eyes water with tears, and she gives me a reassuring nod that reluctantly says, “You can go, Lisbeth. We love you.”
____________________
The taxi ride is one hour, away from the bustling city and into the more suburban parts of
Tianjin, China. From afar, dark swift clouds drift east towards our direction in the open sky, a sky that is now almost hueless. The clouds in the distance. They’re heavy, pregnant with rain. I can’t tell if the air pollution is wrapping and covering the sky in all its gloominess, or incoming rain.
The taxi driver drops us off at the front gate of the orphanage and accepts the money
Dorothy hands him. He chuckles at my poor attempt to say thank you, “谢谢,” as we wave
goodbye to the little blue taxi. The building is smaller than we imagined. Here, I captured a
picture for you: stone blue roofs, tan chipped walls, and filthy rust windows, the ones that look so fragile like sugar glass that they could shatter by the touch of a finger. The guard gestures to the black gate, letting Dorothy and I pass through. “You may enter in,” he says in broken English.
The truth begins to sink in. This is where you came from, your parents once left you here.
Dorothy and I walk into the building, and she catches me wringing my hands in agitation.
She reaches out her hand enveloped in a cream knit glove for me to hold. Am I afraid of
learning about where I came from? I have nothing to lose, I assure myself, I already have a
loving family that I belong to. I grab her hand and squeeze it gently, exhaling a soft sigh. We
enter the building that holds our past and our fate, together.
Inside, the orphanage reminds me of the childcare program I volunteered at this summer
abroad, in Mexico. The walls are colorful but not overly vibrant, painted soft pastel yellows,
pinks, and blues. From my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of rooms down the hallway with cribs and mattresses laid out on the floor. The squealing of babies pierces my ears. It brings me back in time to the first few weeks when the Foresters brought baby Flynn home, and the endless waking nights it brought.
A woman walks up to me, the secretary I believe, or maybe the director? She greets us
with a warm smile and invites us into the main office. “Please come this way.” Dorothy and I
walk into the tiny room next door, and look at each other simultaneously, impressed by the lady’s English despite it carrying a slight accent.
“Hello, my name is May and I'm the secretary,” she reaches out to shake our hands and
continues, “Our director of the orphanage is not here today, but I can assist you. What brings the both of you here today?”
I put on my warmest smile and speak on behalf of Dorothy, “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m
Elizabeth and this is my older sister Dorothy. We were both adopted from this orphanage twelve years ago when we were young. We’re wondering if there is any information or records this orphanage might perhaps hold about our biological parents?”
“Hmm... give me a few minutes to search through our records and I’ll see what
information I can find. You may sit here and wait, I’ll be back shortly.”
Before I have the chance to say thank you, May has already shut the rickety door of the
office and left. I let out a long breath and sink into the wooden chair, gripping tightly onto its
armrests.
“What if we don’t find anything, Dorothy?”
Dorothy takes my hand in her gloves and gives me a comforting smile. “Then we’ll go
back to our life in Cincinnati with the Foresters and be at peace knowing there’s nothing else we can do,” she says contently. I lean my head on her shoulder and she leans her head on top of mine.
Fifteen minutes later, May finally opens the door and walks into the room with a grin. She lets out a sigh of relief and begins to speak as she sits down, “Elizabeth and Dorothy, I’m sorry to tell you that we have no record of your parents’ names except that they resided in the countryside miles away from this city. Your father left you here at the orphanage along with your oldest sister Naomi Griffiths, whom you were separated from, after your mother died giving birth to you. From what we know, he suffered a povertous life and couldn’t provide food nor financially support you or give you an education. Your father wanted you to stay here in the hope of a better life, where you could have meals each day, sleep under a roof, and be safer and healthy. Two years after your mom passed away, your father died from heart disease. Please know that they loved you very dearly.”
Dorothy and I begin crying at the same time, hot tears streaming down our cheeks. But
they’re happy tears. Thankful tears, that now I can live in peace knowing the dear love our
parents had for us. May sits there, her face beaming. I’m sure this isn’t the first time she’s seen this happen before. Dorothy and I thank May for the blessing of peace and joy she’s given us as we leave the office. Dorothy and I open the main door, walk past the black gate, and wave for a taxi to come.
Abruptly, the sound of footsteps beating down a path quickly shakes the ground. “Wait!
Please, wait!” I turn around, only to see May sprinting down the cement pathway, waving a file of papers in her hand. She’s bolting past the gate and catches her breath when she sees that she caught our attention.
Then she yells, “I forgot to tell you. I found an address. It’s your sister... Naomi
Griffiths.”
Dorothy turns to me and smiles, “Want to make one more stop?”
____________________
The airplane flight to Michigan is filled with mixed emotions of exhilaration and
apprehension. Will Naomi recognize who we are? Does she want to be found by us? Does she even remember us? Of course she does, she must. She sends me lilies each year for my birthday, I tell myself. As we depart Detroit Airport, Dorothy requests an Uber to drop us off at 6258 Pembroke Ln. in the city of Midland. And I decided to buy a bouquet of tulips and roses for Naomi. My heart is racing. A smile beams across my face but my hands are also shaking as I hand the florist fifteen dollars. Dorothy gestures to me to walk over to her, signaling that the Uber has arrived.
The drive to Naomi’s home is ecstatic. Dorothy turns from the front passenger seat, and
advises me, “You should get some sleep while we’re on the road. It’s gonna be a long two hours.” For the first few minutes, it’s hard to tell myself to close my eyes and simply rest when my heart is overflowing with anticipation. Finally, I lean against the window and give way to the rest my body so badly yearns for.
“Thank you so much for the ride,” I hear Dorothy say softly, two hours later.
Immediately, my head bolts up and I gaze out the window. A cute modern farmhouse meets my view with a scarlet door waiting for me to walk through. I get out of the car, grab the bouquet, and walk down the stone pathway. My eyes soak in the abundance of autumn. Three maple trees are planted next to the house, and bushes growing autumn leaves line the front porch. Its scarlet-maple hues create garlands which flutter among the sheer winds. On the front porch, a wooden sign is painted with the last name, Griffiths. We must be at the right house. Me and Dorothy’s faces both radiate with joy.
As I search, a doorbell is nowhere to be found so I knock on the door four times. To our
surprise, a young girl, somewhere between the ages of six and nine, opens the door. She greets us with a warm smile and a woman comes up next to her, I assume her mom. “Honey, I told you not to open the door to strangers,” she says, laughing a little while she softly tousles the girl’s chestnut brown hair. The little girl giggles and runs up the stairs in her dress. The mom turns her attention back towards me and Dorothy. “Girls, is there something I can help you with?”
“Hi! We’re wondering if we can see Naomi Griffiths. She’s our... oldest sister,” I say.
I’m not sure how the mom will react, maybe she’ll tell us to leave. Maybe Naomi’s not even here. Instead, she places her hand over her mouth and takes in a deep breath. Tears stream down her face and she uncovers her hand, only to reveal a warm smile. She’s thrilled to meet us.
“You must be Dorothy and Elizabeth right?” We nod at the same time. “Well, I’m Mrs.
Griffiths and that was Winnie. Come inside the house! Let me show you up to Naomi’s room. She will be absolutely overjoyed to see the both of you.” Mrs. Griffiths gestures for us to follow her, and we walk up the white oak stairs. I scan the walls for family pictures of the Griffiths, but all I see are Winnie’s crayon drawings hung up in wooden frames. Mrs. Griffiths walks to the second to last room in the hall and stops. “Well, I’ll leave you both to it, Naomi’s right inside.” She pats our back and leaves rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater.
I grip my flowers tighter and squeeze Dorothy’s hand. A million thoughts are racing
through my mind, but I silence them all. For love, hope, and peace are the only emotions
echoing into my soul. Dorothy opens the door and I walk in first. A tall girl who’s sitting in a cozy reading nook turns around, and a confused expression shows across her face. I can’t help but smile and tears stream down my cheeks uncontrollably. Dorothy speaks for me, “Naomi, we’re Dorothy and Elizabeth... Your sisters.” Naomi puts down her book and runs to us, embracing us with a hug. All of us are crying, not sad tears, but happy tears that sisterhood has been restored.
After the three of us have finished crying, I sit on the bed with Dorothy and bring up the
lilies to Naomi. “How did you know where to send lilies to each year for my birthday? Did the orphanage give you our address?”
“I never sent you any lilies, I don’t even know where you live to be honest.” Naomi looks
confused. Who has been sending me lilies then?
Dorothy looks at me, puts her hand on my knee and confesses, “It was me, Lisbeth, I put
the flowers on the doorstep each year on the morning of your birthday. I did it so that you would have some hope that Naomi wasn’t lost from our life yet and that you would find comfort knowing she still remembered us and loved you.”
Instead of being angry at Dorothy or frustrated, I’m thankful. Thankful for the hope she
gave me each year that I had a sister who still loved me and cared for me. I give Dorothy a small side hug and mouth to her, “Thank you, sister,” with a smile.
_________________
Morning awakens me from my sleep with the chirping of wrens on a pine tree and the
doorbell ringing. A year has passed since Dorothy and I reunited with Naomi, whom we saw again this summer in Michigan, and things have changed. Dorothy is out of the house now, dorming at Kenyon College in Gambier. I miss her dearly, but we see each other once a month since she decided to attend a university in the state of Ohio. Although she couldn’t come home to spend my 17th birthday with me today, she called me last night saying she would send a gift.
I quietly walk down the stairs, not wanting to wake up Mom and Dad or Flynn. A sliver
of light blinds me. An abundance of sunlight pours into the living room through the kitchen window, creating heated planks of wood under my feet. A cozy sensation rushes down my body as rays of sunshine warm my soul. I open the freshly painted yellow door of our home only to find a bouquet of gorgeous daffodils on the front porch. The creamy peach bulbs contrast the white petals beautifully. I gently pick up the note that is placed between the rosy pink wrapping and the daffodils, and read it.
Lisbeth, we’ve walked through seasons of hardship and celebration, but I’m grateful that we did it together as sisters. Through long winter seasons to a brighter spring, I pray that these daffodils remind you of the hope, joy, and new beginnings that life brings.
Love, Dorothy
About the Author:
Haley is a third culture kid and Chinese-American high school student who transitioned to the United States after her family lived overseas in China for 10 years, doing mission work. After going to a bilingual international school there and being immersed into cultures across Asia, she has grown a strong passion for the written word.
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