Only One More

Dear Judith,

I've written this blog a thousand times in my head, but I suppose I'll finally share it, as it was written on the day that it occurred.

Today is Belle's last day. I've known about it for about two weeks, but nothing can truly prepare you for having your heart ripped out and flown to Korea.
I remember my first day with her. I had no idea what I was doing, and I was wracking my brain, trying to figure out how I had gotten myself into this situation on this miniscule island. It was naptime, and my attempts to soothe the children to sleep were proving futile. Belle was wide awake, but everytime I told her to close her eyes, she obeyed.
It wasn't long before I began to wonder if that obedience was a fluke. She is a rambunctious three-year old, beautiful and incredibly intelligent, oftentimes too smart for her own good, but she was a blessing to my class, always providing the correct answers and making me laugh with her funny faces. Belle gives the tightest hugs that you can imagine, holding on with all her might, sometimes making me wonder if she was trying to suffocate me.
It was only a couple weeks into school when her mother, Oma, marched into my classroom, took one look at me, and offered me a job tutoring her son, Ricky. I accepted, excited at the prospect of extra income. I began going to their apartment 4 nights a week and we became quite close. Tutoring was usually frustrating, and Oma served me octopus pancakes, but I loved that family fiercely.
On the ride home, I would puff out my cheeks like a monkey and Belle would smush them back. My face would ache, but I couldn't say no to Belle when she would say, "No, only one more!"
"Only one more" became her catchphrase anytime I wanted to quit something, and I usually gave in. There were days when the only thing I wanted was to get off this island and fly back to America, but her voice would resound in my head, and I would find the strength to make it through "only one more" day.
And now, Belle stands in the doorway with Oma, and I am powerless to stop them from leaving. I say goodbye to this child and her mother, my Saipan family. The only thing echoing in my head is Belle, voicing my desire for more days, weeks, months with them.

Oh Belle, only one more.