I Can Make This Promise

by Christine Day

I also wonder if they keep sketchbooks, or have favorite places to draw, like I do. I’m always curious about other artists and their habits, their unfinished drafts, their inspirations.

It’s hard to imagine that some of his stories really happened. But maybe that’s because I’ve only known him since he became a dad.

“Parents can be weird,” Serenity says. “That’s for sure. They keep secrets. They don’t always do the right thing. They make mistakes. But they’re not trying to hurt you, Edie. If they lied, or they didn’t tell you everything yet—there’s a reason for it. And I think you should ask them about it, before we jump to our own conclusions.”

Please don’t worry, big brother. Some people might refuse to show me kindness now, but I will find a way into their hearts. And if their hearts still won’t open in the future, I won’t be discouraged. I won’t let them keep me down. I will simply say a prayer for them, and move on.

There’s a huge lump lodged in my throat. This isn’t going to work. I can’t make her choose the dog. I can’t make her choose me. A part of me wishes Libby was here. I would have no problem telling her to get lost. But it’s just the two of us—Amelia and me. Former best friends, who now seem to be going down different paths.

Even so, she has always been one of my favorite people. And if our friendship is over, it will be hard to move forward. It will be hard to let her go.

I belong in my homelands, with my loved ones. Now that I’ve gotten a taste of the world beyond our little corner of the Puget Sound, I can safely say that venturing out on your own is overrated. It’s fine to try and change the world. To define yourself as an activist, an artist, an individual. But solo adventures can only last for so long. The journey is always better together. And I’ve missed you all so much.

Theo said that he and his mother didn’t disapprove of her plans, but . . . they were afraid for her. Their life here in Suquamish might not have been perfect, but it was consistent. They knew what to expect from this place. They knew how to survive in this place. The same couldn’t be said for LA. And Edith was young and idealistic, maybe a little naive. They loved her very much and didn’t want to see her get crushed. But of course, they still let her go. She was determined, and neither of them could deny her anything.

Theo didn’t understand how she could believe in luck. But if she could find the strength to get help in that moment, to put herself in such a vulnerable position—once again, he couldn’t deny her. All he could do was stand by and support her.

“For many years, Native children were forcibly removed from their families and communities.”

“This is why my mother didn’t want to give birth in a hospital. This is why she and my uncle tried so hard to avoid it, even when she began going into labor in downtown Seattle. They knew that state child welfare and private adoption agencies were actively seeking out Native children. They knew of friends and neighbors and distant relatives whose kids were taken.”

“Between the 1940s and 1970s, about one-third of Native children were separated from their families. Until Congress passed the Indian Child Welfare Act in 1978.”

I wasn’t ready for something this cruel. I wasn’t ready for this horrific injustice. I’m up and off the couch, striding across the room to my parents, throwing my arms around them. Until today, I didn’t realize what a beautiful and wonderful gift this is. The right to hug your loved ones, whenever you want to. I will never take these hugs for granted again.

I can’t go back in time. I can’t undo the wrong things that were done. I can’t give her the roles she wanted. I can’t ever write her a letter. I can’t even let her know how proud I am to be named after her. But I can give her this dedication. I can make this promise: that she might be gone, but she will never be forgotten. Mom whispers, “That was beautiful, Edie.” They all come to me, hugging me and embracing me. My parents, my uncle, my best friend. And in this moment, I feel so full. So full and loved and sure of myself. I finally know where I’m from. And I’ll carry this place and these people with me, wherever I go.