“Waste (wash-tey), lila waste! Good, very good! Wopila, thank you, for giving your life that I may live.” Slightly stunned, I lowered my fork and turned slowly to look at you, my thirteen-year-old son. We sat in the dining room of a Mexican restaurant where you had ordered a large burrito. You were eating slowly, enjoying your meal, commenting on how good it was.
Never before had I heard you thank the animals and plants that had given their lives so that you may eat. Today, however, you bent your head, closed your eyes, and offered your thanks without my telling you to do so.
Can I tell you what my heart is telling me tonight? My heart is telling me that my son’s own heart has grown from that of a child into the heart of a man.
Waste lila waste Ciksi (chee-kshee), Son! Waste!
Ina (mother) Wambli hupahu kici naji (Stands With Eagle Wings)
Copyright 2010 Debra Shiveley Welch
Excerpt from Son of My Soul - The Adoption of Christopher
Library of Congress Copyright 2014 Debra Shiveley Welch
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