While I sat in the recliner in my new home in Harlingen writing a letter to my mem, I wondered what I would be doing if I had stayed Amish. Before my escape, I had thought long and hard about what I wanted to do if I had remained Amish. I knew for sure I did not want to work for another Amish family again. I did not want to make baskets anymore. I did not want to be a schoolteacher. I did not want to get baptized, get married, and have children. Amish girls did not have much say in how they lived life back home. If I had stayed, I most likely would have been stuck at home the rest of my life raising children and doing housework. Ugh!
Six months after I moved to Texas, I made plans to travel back home to visit for the first time since leaving. I felt more nervous about going back and facing everyone than the day I actually made the escape. I had received many letters during the last six months, and I feared the first visit would not be easy. I did not really expect it to be. I knew I needed to go back and try to explain why I had left rather than just write letters. Running away was not easy, but it would have been much easier if I could have just told my parents I was going to leave. It was very possible I would have been punished, though, for even talking about such behavior. I could not speak to them about anything that bothered me about the Amish rules, so informing my parents I planned to go “high” was out of reach. Being “high” was the phrase used when someone left the Amish. I had tried to give them hints I was not happy, but they either did not catch on or they did not care.
Some of the letters I received before my first visit home confused me. One letter Jacob wrote said, “If you don’t make arrangements to stay at home then you shouldn’t even bother to come at all.”
His statement hurt me, but I thought surely he could not be serious. The only way to find out was to take another leap of faith.
Mem told me in another letter, “You have to wear Amish clothes because no one wants to see you with ‘English’ clothes when you come home to visit.”
As I sat in the recliner finishing my letter, I thought about the dress I wore the day I left. It hung in the closet and I was not about to put it back on to go home. I knew Sarah and Amanda would not mind seeing me in jeans, or at least I hoped they would not.
The Amish believed the Bible condemns those who do not honor their parents. I knew I had disobeyed my parents, but I also disobeyed them at home. I could not see the difference whether I stayed or not. Either way, according to the Amish, I stood condemned.
After I was through re-reading the letter to my mem and reminiscing about the Amish way of condemning me, I continued to build up my courage to take that leap of faith and go visit.
§
My first visit home included my first plane ride to Kansas City. I could not help but feel vindicated that I was able to break another Amish rule—they believed in staying on the ground for any transportation. Slow, stinky horse poop kind of transportation at that. I got horribly sick on that flight, but it was still worth it.
Virgil picked me up from the airport and we drove to his house in Jamesport, Missouri where I met Enos, my cousin who left the Amish shortly after I did. Enos then took me to my parents’ house about sixty miles away and dropped me off. I was scared not to have a getaway vehicle in case I needed it, but I rested assured that Enos was only a phone call away.
After Enos dropped me off on that hot June day in 2006, I timidly walked to the front porch of the house where my young siblings sat and stared a hole in me. I did not see Mem or Datt, but I had a feeling they were hiding behind the windows in the house. Even the older siblings were nowhere to be seen. The farm seemed to be deserted. I sat down on the porch with my back turned against the door, not sure if I was welcome to go inside. I was almost in tears when Sarah and Amanda finally slipped outside to join me. I was relieved.
I eventually made it inside where I faced Datt and Mem. Datt sat in his usual chair smoking his pipe; his face was white and his solemn blue eyes darted away from me as he said, “Vegates” (Hello).
Mem sat in her rocking chair, her eyes red from crying. She managed to ask in a shaky voice, “Vee bischt du?” (How are you?)
“I am doing good,” I replied softly.
I sat meekly in a chair in the living room not knowing how to begin a conversation. The little girls followed me in the house and kept staring and occasionally grinning. Mem did not say much, but Datt got impatient and started stirring the pot.
“You look like the world and you live like the world; how can you expect to be right with God?” he asked harshly.
“I don’t think God judges me based on how I look, but rather what is in my heart,” I retorted.
“And what exactly is in your heart?” He asked so sternly I was sure he thought I did not have a heart.
“I am at ease with what I am doing now. I know that God is watching over me and I am trying to follow the path that he has chosen for me.”
Not any calmer than before, Datt replied, “You are going the wrong way and you cannot convince me otherwise. You’ve been brainwashed and it’s scary.”
I listened to him for a while longer. Sometimes I tried to put in my two cents, but it did not do any good. No matter what I said, I was always wrong. Datt made sure I knew I had committed a major sin and I was certainly going to hell. I used to think of myself as confined in a little cave. I would peek out a bit now and then and peer around like a mouse huddling in the shadows and looking at the big scary world outside. Deep down I knew if I stepped outside the cave I would speed down the highway to hell. I left the cave anyway, and soon after decided I was not heading to hell for leaving my family. However, it was not so easy for my parents to understand.
After a while, I left the room when there was a pause long enough to leave politely. My sisters followed me to the kitchen and they offered me a glass of water. I did not want to get mad on my first visit home, especially since Mem and my sisters had asked me to stay for the night. I wanted to keep the peace for their sake. With coaxing from Mem, I gave in and put on my Amish clothes. She gave me an ultimatum: either change clothes or sleep somewhere else. I was almost certain Datt had told her what to say to me before my arrival. I thought about it for a minute then decided I would do it out of respect, even though wearing a dress and head covering gave me dreaded flashbacks.
It was worth it that night, though, when I got to spend some time with my sisters upstairs in my old bedroom. They were all a little unsure of how to talk to me, and they never asked what it was like living in the English world. I figured the reason they were not inquisitive was because they just could not comprehend I was now one of the outsiders. The saddest part was noticing the scared looks on some of my siblings’ faces. We ended the evening by just having good ol’ conversations about their lives in general, like school, work, and who was dating whom. Having conversations familiar to them seemed to break the ice and made it less stressful on everyone.
The next morning, after breakfast, I helped wash the dishes, then afterward my siblings left me alone with Datt and Mem. We quietly sat in the basket shop when Mem finally asked, “What have we done to you that made you leave us?”
I responded calmly: “I didn’t have a life here. All I did was make baskets or work for other families. But the biggest reason of all was the fear of having to join the church and then have the pressure to get married. The final decision to leave came after having balloons shot up my nose. It was enough to make any person want to get away from everything.”
Datt said, “You didn’t have to get married.”
“Then why did I have to date guys who were not even close to being my type. I remember how happy Mem was when she found out I was dating Norman and I could tell the sadness too, when I broke it off with him.”
Datt soon wanted to change the subject. “I thought you were mad at us for taking you to the balloon doctor and that was the only reason you left.”
“I was mad and it was ultimately the final trigger for me amongst all the other things that I didn’t like or could not understand. There are days where I still cry when I think about those awful treatments, and to think it was just a nervous breakdown I was going through.”
Tears rolled down Mem’s cheeks. “I am so sorry we took you to that doctor,” she said. “If I had it all over to do again, I would change it.”
“I accept your apology, Mem,” I replied, choking back tears.
Datt looked at her and said, “I don’t think that the balloon doctor had anything to do with it. Emma is just being stubborn and wants to put the guilt on us.”
“I can’t believe you just said that, Datt,” I chimed in. I could not stop the tears now.
I was so furious with his comment I stood up and left the room before I started throwing things in his face. At that moment I realized he would never apologize for taking me to the balloon doctor. I walked from the shop to the house, and soon Mem followed. We sat in the living room and had a general conversation about everyday Amish life. No one brought up the dreadful conversation in the basket shop again.
I stayed at the farm for three days without talking with Datt again. He just sat around the house silently, looking distraught. I felt sorry for him. I could tell it took a stressful toll on him when I left. In a way, I blamed his stress on himself, but I knew the Church and the whole community did not make it easy on him. I could just see a mental image of everyone judging him for the way he raised his daughter.
When the time came for me to leave for Texas again, I was glad. I was more than ready to shed my Amish clothes and change back into something more comfortable—pants and a bright-colored shirt.
A year later, in August of 2007, I visited home again, and this time things went downhill between Datt and me even worse than the first visit. He brought up the same conversation about everything I had done and was now doing wrong, and he preached on and on. I stood up for myself several times, which only made him angrier. Finally, I could not handle it anymore and I started crying and screaming uncontrollably. However, after the first day, everything calmed down again and Datt fell completely silent, just like he did during my first visit.
I changed into my Amish clothes like before and stayed for several nights. I enjoyed visiting with the girls and Mem, except I had to be cautious what I said or did so I would not offend anyone. Everyone was very sensitive. And so was I. I tried to explain to them that I was going to be starting college soon after I got back to Texas. But that information rolled right over their noggins. In the letters I wrote to them I often mentioned the things I was doing, like studying for the GED exam and working at a Dollar General, but they never mentioned or asked me about it. Our conversations mostly stayed within their comfort zone: Amish life.
The next year, in early 2008, after the third visit ended, I vowed to never go back home again. Every single time I visited, I stressed out so much that I almost broke out in shingles. Or it felt like I did. But I had to eat my words when I received an invitation to my brother Jacob’s wedding. I struggled with understanding why Jacob invited me when Datt still would not talk to me, but I decided to use the opportunity to show my family I still loved them. I just had to get past Datt’s rejection.
§
The letters started arriving a couple weeks before Jacob’s wedding, which happened to be scheduled during a busy semester at college for me. I still wondered why he would even invite me. Was it to make me feel guilty? If I did not go, he could make me out to be the bad sister, and if I did attend, he could make me feel uncomfortable and out of place. Either way, I lost. I did not know if he had invited me because he really wanted me to be there, or if his intention was to make me feel bad. I assumed the latter. I did not really want to go because I knew I would have to be Amish for a couple days, and I was not sure I was ready to handle it again after my last visit had caused so many nightmares.
Jacob, the oldest child in our family, was eleven months older than me. He was a quiet man, but I was proud to have an older brother who was handsome and smart and handled himself with humility, like every Amish person was taught. His popularity helped me feel important on those Sunday mornings I rode with him to church.
Although we did not talk about anything serious on those mornings, he could make me laugh with unexpected remarks about nothing in particular. He never opened up about what was going on in his life, and it did not seem right for me to ask him to share anything. He seemed to have his life together all the time, and I envied him. I cannot remember getting into a serious fight with him, and he was not the type to hurt any of his sisters, but there were days he would express some anger towards us if we did not listen to him.
After I left the Amish, though, Jacob surprised me by trying to convince me to go back home by writing a letter designed to scare me. One night, while I was trying to go to sleep, I kept thinking about my brother and his upcoming wedding. I missed him dearly, but how could I summon the courage to go? I looked at the clock for the hundredth time, and at 1:30 A.M. I sat up in bed and turned on the light. I was annoyed with myself and I had no idea what to do to calm down.
Finally, I climbed out of bed, walked to the closet, and pulled out a box of letters. Maybe reading some of Jacob’s old letters would help me decide whether to attend the wedding. I found some of them buried under hundreds of others I had received over the past two-and-a-half years. I had mixed emotions about reading them again. I could not remember exactly what he had written, but his letter was one of the first I had received after escaping. I had seen Jacob a few times since, and while it was not easy for him, he had started to accept me the way I was, albeit slowly. I sat on the bedroom floor, my back against the wall, and removed three roughly-handwritten pages, scripted mostly in English mixed with a few German words.
Hello Sister,
Feb. 26, 06
Greetings as always are being sent sadly from me to you. This is Sunday afternoon; I am trying to entertain myself, which is hard to do since you left. I decided to write a few lines your way to let you know what’s going on and what is going to happen. I just thought I would try and help you out of your nest that is getting deeper. God up above will hear and see everything you did and do. He will not forget at the end of the world or the end of your life. It is still time to make things right. It will make it much easier for you to face everyone if you give yourself up and come back home. You left a lot of good friends and relatives behind. I can’t see how you can enjoy yourself knowing you won’t get to see our aunts and uncles and a lot of cousins anymore.
I am thinking you should straighten up because someone once told me that we can’t change parents, we just have to give ourselves up first. And I agree, because when I was younger, I had the same feelings you had. Then I gave myself up, Datt didn’t bother me anymore and all of a sudden I was happy all over again.
You might be happy now, but think of the time when you are about to die and no relatives to visit with you. Do you think you would be wishing you had listened to Mem and Datt??? I am sure then, that you will cry many nights wishing to be Amish with your brothers and sisters, if not, let me know why? You are crazy for letting yourself go.
If any of your brothers and sisters ever get married wouldn’t it shame you to not be at the weddings? And if you did come, do you think you could enjoy yourself as good because you are not Amish? Think about it!!
You might be thinking freedom now, but think of the years ahead. You are the one that is making it hard for yourself and I am here trying to help. I hope you have enough sense to let yourself be helped. Datt is happy to know that you are safe and he wants you to be happy, but not the life you are in now.
How would you like to go to the war? You might not like it, and there won’t be a way out of it if you stay English. The computer chips are the same way and there won’t be a way to help you out of it. Now I want you to read this a couple times and think about everything hard.
Let me know when you are coming and what you got in mind.
Your brother,
Jacob
Tears erupted halfway through reading the letter. I was not crying because I thought Jacob was right, but because I felt sorry for everyone I had hurt. Dear God, I prayed, please help my family understand why I had to leave them. Amen.
Jacob obviously worried about what could happen to me. I do not know where he got the idea about the computer chips, and he thought I would end up going to war because I had a Social Security number. Mem expressed the same concerns in her first letter. These comments did not intimidate me because I was confident it would not happen. Either Jacob did not know any better, or he said it to scare me. I was doing what made me happy, and all the angels in heaven had my back. I had no doubt God was protecting me.
Since leaving the Amish I had developed a very different outlook in my faith, and I went to church every Sunday. Going to a church where the preacher spoke English was a whole different learning experience—I had lots of catching up to do! I knew nothing about the Bible. Nothing. Not even a verse a three-year old knew by heart. It took me two years after leaving the Amish to accept Jesus as my Savior, and I even got dunked in a full-immersion water baptism by a Baptist preacher in Harlingen. I always knew the Good Man stood by my side, guiding me in troubled times even when I did not want to believe it.
Reading Jacob’s letter again finally brought to light how sad I had made my family. I tried to imagine the pain on Mem’s face when she went to church the first few times. She could not hide the fact I was not there, and people probably questioned her inability to keep her daughter at home. If only they could understand leaving them had not been easy on me either, but explaining it proved to be difficult. Homesickness had been beyond hard to describe on some days, but I managed to stay busy to alleviate some of the pain.
I folded Jacob’s letter and slid it back into the envelope. A sense of relief came over me and I finally crawled back into bed and fell asleep instantly.
§
I woke up the next morning startled to see I had just enough time to throw on some clothes and head to my 8:00 biology class. Missing coffee and breakfast was not a good way to start my day. I sat in class with my thoughts nowhere near the subject of the plasma membrane of a plant. Jacob’s wedding invitation still weighed heavily on my mind, and I remembered the last time I had gone home to visit, my third visit in the spring of 2008.
I vividly remembered driving up the gravel road and turning into the driveway. I was amazed to see Datt was the only one outside, and it looked like he had been waiting for several hours. I found it a little strange no one else came out to greet me, but like the first few times I had returned home, the kids were not allowed to act as if they were glad to see me, so I figured they had been told to stay in the house again.
Datt walked toward the vehicle, and as I opened the door of my Dodge pickup and stepped out he muttered, “You look so worldly; it’s disgraceful to me, please leave.” He turned around and disappeared into the shop.
I stood in the driveway, speechless. It sounded like he had been rehearsing the exact words for the hundredth time. This was the third time I had come home to visit. The first two times had not gone well, but the letters he wrote to me after the second visit were polite and considerate. I thought he was finally ready to forgive me, but apparently it was all phony. I had driven 1258 miles to find out he still held a grudge and was not ready to accept me the way I was.
I looked at the house and saw some of the little ones standing at the kitchen door peeking out. I wonder what all this is about; no one is coming out to greet me. I grabbed the books and magazines I had brought to give to the kids and walked to the door. Tears welled up with my anger. To my surprise, Mem and Jacob were standing in the kitchen waiting for me to come in.
“What’s wrong?” Jacob asked. “What did Datt have to say to you?”
“He told me to leave,” I answered. “I just came in to drop off this box of books, and then I am getting out of here.”
“Wait a minute,” Jacob muttered. “I am going to have a talk with Datt. He is crazy for acting like this.”
“Don’t bother. If Datt doesn’t want me to be here, then I would rather just leave and not cause a problem.”
It was too late. Before I could even finish the sentence, Jacob bolted out the door, with Mem following behind. Jacob’s reaction to all this surprised me. I was not sure how to take it, because the last time I came home to visit he did not have much to say. Something had changed.
They soon returned and told me it was okay for me to stay. Datt was just not in a good mood, but he had agreed to let me stay for a while.
Later that afternoon, Jacob and I sat on the porch with no one around. For the first time we had a long, deep discussion about our feelings. The brotherly conversation I had wanted so long ago was finally real, except now it was about a completely different subject.
I listened to Jacob talk in a soft voice for a while. I burst into tears when he said, “It has been so hard to move on since you left, and I can never fully accept your decision, but I do want you to be happy.”
I cried softly. For the first time, I was not mad that Jacob told me exactly what was on his mind. It felt so good to have a conversation and not be yelled at or preached at like Datt always did.
When I could talk without blubbering like a baby, I said, “I feel very bad to put you and the rest of the family through so much pain, but there was no other choice. I was so unhappy and miserable the last few years that I just had leave. Going to the balloon doctor was just the last straw for me. During that treatment I decided to definitely get out of here. I was so angry with Datt for making me go there, I didn’t know how to forgive him. I honestly believe that God has been watching over me and has given me the strength to go find a different life.”
“Are you going to ever forgive Datt?” Jacob asked quietly.
I was silent for a second, then said, “Yes, I came here today to forgive him and I quickly found out he wasn’t ready for it. I don’t think I will ever forget, but forgiveness is the only way to live without pain from the past.”
“Do you think you will come back to stay someday?” he asked, voice raspy, as if he was about to cry. He leaned over and braced his arms on his legs so I could not see his tears.
“At this point I don’t see myself being Amish again,” I said. “I wish I could come home so the family could be happy again. But I know that I wouldn’t be happy, so why should I deprive myself and be miserable? The last thing I want to do is come back and then leave again if I can’t make it here. I can’t bear the thought of hurting the family twice.”
“Well, I wish you would come back,” he said in a hopeful tone. “But I see your point. It would be better if you wait until you are ready.”
I did not say anything more. I sat in silence, wishing it would not be so difficult to explain why being Amish was not for me anymore. My heart ached. I wished there were words I could say that made sense. But my feelings were not explainable. It is kind of like the moment when a boyfriend suddenly breaks up with a girl with no specific explanation. The girl desperately wants closure to move on, but nothing the guy says helps the shattered heart, because there are no exact words that can make the hurt go away. At this point, the Good Man was the only One who could comfort Jacob and help him understand my feelings.
Soon Datt came out of the shop and sat behind me on a bench. He started talking about the good Lord and how evil the outside world had become. I let him talk without interrupting. Jacob sat silently as well. The preaching lasted for a good thirty minutes, and when Datt finally grew quiet I said as calmly as possible, “I appreciate your view, but everyone has their differences.”
With that, I stood up and walked back into the house. I could not listen to one more word of Datt’s preaching, and definitely did not want to start another argument. Datt did not talk to me the rest of my four-day visit, and I returned to Texas with a hole of sadness still open in my heart.
As I left the biology class an hour later, I could not believe I did not pay any attention to the teacher. All I remembered hearing was the teacher saying we would have an exam in a week. I was screwed.
§
A few days after zoning out in biology class, I stepped off a Southwest Airlines jet at the Kansas City airport. I was about to do something I swore I would never do. But after remembering how Jacob had rescued me from Datt’s decision to make me leave, and because our conversation had been so fulfilling, I felt I needed to be at his wedding. It was such a big day for him and I wanted to show him my love and support. Besides, I knew the bride very well: we had gone to the same school, and she had been one grade ahead of me. She was our second cousin, and I was against marriage to such a close relative, but I had no control over it. After all, it happens all the time in the Amish community.
My parents’ house was a two-hour drive from Kansas City, so Virgil and Jolene toted me from the airport to the house. I did not feel comfortable not having my own vehicle, in case I needed to make a run for it. However, I knew my parents did not want a car sitting on their property during the wedding, so I made an exception and hoped for the best. I had not talked to Datt since the last visit, but just like before he wrote me letters as if everything was normal. I hope he does not pull that stunt on me again, I prayed as I walked into the house.
Datt sat in his usual chair in the living room, pipe dangling from his mouth, visiting with several young men.
I walked over to him, greeted him with a handshake, and asked, “Vee bisht du?”
To my astonishment, he greeted me politely. I thought it was awkward to greet Datt with a handshake when he should have gotten out of his chair and given me a hug, but giving hugs was out of the question in my family.
Datt asked if I knew who the men were. They sat silently and stared at me as if they had never seen a girl wearing pants.
I looked at them for what seemed like a long minute. I had no idea who they were. Both of the guys had dark, thick beards and hair long enough to cover their ears and the back of their necks. They reminded me of gorillas. My face flushed from embarrassment.
Finally I said, “I am guessing you are my cousins, but I don’t know your names.” I offered them a handshake. Still they did not tell me their names. They were quieter than fence posts. Even more embarrassing, it looked like they were hurt because I did not know them.
Just when I thought I was not going to get an answer, Datt said, “They are your first cousins from Ohio.”
After he told me their names, my heart stopped for a moment. I remembered playing with them many times when I lived in Ohio. I had seen them again when I was in my teens living in Missouri, but it was at least eight years since I had last seen them. I had almost three hundred first cousins and I did not know how I was supposed to remember them all. Since I had not been living with the Amish anymore, I noticed more than ever that the men’s looks changed after they started growing beards, and eventually they all ended up looking the same.
“Really?” I said, surprised. “I am sorry I didn’t recognize you, I would have never guessed.”
One of them finally made an effort to say something, “I guess we all change in some ways.”
I left the living room as politely as I could and went to the kitchen where the girls washed the supper dishes. I was relieved to finally see some familiar faces, and to be greeted happily. I waited until they finished the dishes, then we went upstairs to figure out what I was going to wear for the wedding. Mem joined us, sitting on the bed next to me. I had my cell phone in my hand and was trying to put it on vibrate, hoping she would not tell me to turn it off. I planned to hide it in a drawer close by, in case an emergency arose and I wanted to get away.
“I am concerned about your short hair,” she said. “How are you going to put it in a bun to put under your head covering?”
“I don’t know yet, but I will try and get it up somehow,” I assured her.
“You shouldn’t have cut your hair in the first place,” she said, smiling a little.
“Ahh, I bought a wig that I was going to wear to make my hair longer. Would you like that better?” I joked.
She looked at me and quickly said, “No, I do not want you to wear a wig. I want you to be as real as possible for tomorrow.”
Hmm… as real as possible. Did she think I was not real anymore? I brushed the comment aside. I was not about to tell Mem how I ended up with such short hair. The first haircut I had gotten after leaving the Amish fell just below my shoulders. The beautician had cut off twelve inches the first time, then coaxed me into keeping the locks as a souvenir even though I really wanted to be liberated of that long hair for good. One day I decided I wanted even shorter hair—it had been a dream of mine since I was young girl. I had told the beautician, Tiffany, I wanted my hair length to be right above my shoulders. Feeling a little giddy about the privilege of being able to cut my hair any way I wanted without fear of God punishing me, I sat smugly in the chair while Tiffany snipped away.
After a while Tiffany cheerfully said, “Look in the mirror to see the new you!”
As she swung my chair around and I came face-to-face with my reflection, my jaw dropped to my feet. I was mortified. I could not believe how much hair she had cut off; I thought she had scalped me! It was not the haircut I had envisioned. I looked like a boy! I lied to Tiffany and pretended I liked the haircut even though I was furious she had cut much more than I had wanted. I went home and cried my eyes out. Dear God, you did not say in the Bible women cannot get boyish haircuts, did you? I hoped not.
By wedding time, my hair had grown out enough to put it in a little ponytail. Mem would have been even more concerned to see me otherwise. The awkward silence soon broke when Sarah popped into the room with a dark red dress along with a nicely-pressed and folded cape, and an apron to go with the dress.
“Emma, this is my dress and I am so worried it won’t fit you. Please try it on right now.” She sounded like it was an emergency.
Everyone left the room to give me privacy while I changed. Sarah soon returned and looked at me with her twinkling blue eyes. The little smile on her face told me she was thinking something amusing about the way I looked.
“Why are you looking at me so funny?” I asked.
She laughed and said, “I am just glad you are here. I never thought you would actually come for the wedding, since you knew that you would be wearing Amish clothes.”
“I am surprised at myself that I did come, but I wanted to be supportive for Jacob, and I knew you would want me to be here.”
“Yeah, that is good. The only bad part is I won’t get to visit with you because I will be navahucking.”
“Oh shit! I never thought you would be the one. I knew Rhoda would be a navahucka, but not you too.”
Suddenly I was devastated. Navahucka meant that she and Rhoda would be sitting next to the bride in the church service and following her wherever she went for the whole day. So would their boyfriends, except they would be sitting next to Jacob. They were considered the two maids of honor and the two best men.
After Sarah noticed the look on my face, she said in a serious voice, “I know it sucks, but I didn’t have a choice.”
We sat on the bed in silence for a little while. We both knew this would be our last conversation because I was leaving to go back to Texas early Friday morning, right after the wedding, and Sarah had to stay at the bride’s house for the next two nights.
Finally Sarah said, “I best be getting ready to go. My boyfriend will be here soon to pick me up.”
“Okay, go get ready and have fun tomorrow.” I patted her back. She had written me a letter telling me about her boyfriend. At that moment, I realized she would never leave the Amish. My hopes for my sister to join me in the outside world had vanished for good.
As Sarah was leaving the room she stopped at the door and offered me some encouragement, “You will still have Amanda and Anna by your side tomorrow.”
“Umm, yeah, I know. Don’t worry about me, I will be just fine.” Sarah’s boyfriend, Abe, was the first guy I had a date with, and I did not want to revisit those memories, but there was no way of ignoring them. Abe was the bride’s brother and an attractive guy, and by the look on Sarah’s face I could tell she loved him. I just wished they were not so closely related.
Thank goodness I had plenty of sisters to get me through the next day. It was customary for the bridesmaids and their partners to spend the night before the wedding at the bride’s house. There was no chance of me visiting with Sarah anymore because she would be drowning in a sea of people all day long. The only problem with Amanda and Anna was they had grown and changed so much in the last few years I felt like I did not know them anymore. Amanda was four years younger and about two inches taller than me. She looked a lot like me, but just did not think like me. Amanda was more serious with the Amish life and was content with the way things were. Sweet little Anna had grown into a younger version of Sarah: funny, blonde, blue-eyed, and full of energy, ready to play jokes whenever possible.
That night I went to bed early because I felt sick. I had a bad migraine headache and heartburn like nobody’s business. I knew it was all just nerves from worrying about who I would have to face the next day. It had already gotten off to a bad start downstairs when I did not know who my cousins were, and I could only imagine what tomorrow would be like.
The next thing I knew, Mem was standing at the bottom of the stairs calling my brother Noah’s name, telling him it was time to get up. I waited to see if she would call my name too, like she used to when I was living at home. I heard the door close and the footsteps fall silently away. No, she was not going to call my name, maybe it was just too hard for her to say my name again after so many years of not being here. However, she had told me the night before that I needed to get up at five o’clock and be ready to go with Noah to the wedding by six o’clock. The rest of the family planned to leave later. Mem wanted me to go early so I could see Jacob before too many people arrived. Jacob was at his in-laws’ house. It took almost an hour to get there by horse and buggy.
I rolled out of bed and it took me a second to realize there was no light switch to turn on. It would be so much easier to flip on a light switch, I grumbled as I felt around the nightstand for matches to light the oil lamp. It was so dark I could not even see my hand when I held it up close to my face. Finally I got the lamp lit and the light it cast was barely better than no light at all. I did not know how we survived with just a small flame for light. I put on the dress Sarah gave me the night before. I was pinning on the cape when Mem knocked on the door and walked in.
“Do you still know how to put a cape on?” she asked.
“I guess so, I haven’t poked myself yet with these straight pins, I think it’s because I still know how,” I said. In a more serious voice I said, “I am more concerned with how I look.”
“Let me help you get these pleats right on your back. I don’t want your cape too far out on your shoulders.” She offered to help me.
With cold hands, she stuck the ends of the cape between the dress collar and my neck, making three pleats down the full length of my back.
“It would help if I had big mirror so can see what I am doing,” I said. “My hands are sweating from trying to put this pin in the back.”
“What’s wrong with the little hand mirror laying right there?” She pointed to the nightstand.
“I can’t see with it, it’s too little, and the light in this room does not help,” I muttered.
As soon as those words left my mouth I wished I could take them back. I did not want to complain while I was here, especially not in front of Mem. She did not say anything about my comment, but I could tell she did not want to bring up the fact there was nothing she could do about it. Rules dictated the Amish could not have big mirrors, and having a dim light in the house was like bright sunshine to them. Years ago, using a dim oil lamp did not bother me, but now I was used to having a light blaring in every corner of my apartment, whether it was dark outside or not.
I was glad when Mem changed the subject and said, “I need to go downstairs again, to finish making breakfast, but first I want to help you get your head covering on to make sure it fits right.”
I sat down on the bed and started the process of putting my short hair up. Even though my hair had grown out since my last haircut, it was still way shorter than Amish are used to seeing. I used one of Sarah’s handmade hair bands to pull back every strand away from my face. I managed to keep my hair up with several hairpins. Then I put on the white pleated covering Mem had ironed and prepared yesterday.
I held the mirror up to my face and gasped: I looked exactly like I did a long time ago. My throat went dry and my heart leaped out of my chest. I was Amish again and I did not like it. The look on Mem’s face told me she enjoyed it. I wanted to say, Just don’t get your hopes up that I will stay like this, but I did not want to ruin the sweet mother time we were enjoying. It did not happen too often, and I longed to have a close relationship with her. Back in Texas, I would get green with envy when other girls went out with their mothers on special mother-daughter dates.
When I glanced backed to Mem, she was smiling from ear to ear, “Ya, it fits. You might have to pull it forward every once-in-a-while; it seems to pull back a little. And I hope your hair stays up all day, so you don’t have to fix it again. I don’t want other people to see that you cut your hair.”
“I will do my best to keep my hair covered, Mem,” I said, trying to sound reassuring so she would not worry about me all day.
“Okay, come downstairs to eat soon. It is almost time for you to leave for the wedding,” she said with a serious look on her face.
I was already fidgeting in my dress and I had only been in it for less than an hour. The collar squeezed my neck tightly, but it had to be tight so the cape would stay in place. I was glad I decided to wear a bra; at least something felt familiar. I was afraid Mem would notice I had one on when she helped me with the cape. She probably would not know what it was since women here did not wear them. After I finished griping to myself, I ran downstairs to eat and, out of all things that could possibly be made for breakfast, it had to be coffee soup. I should have known because it was an Amish breakfast classic, made with hot milk, sugar, and coffee, and eaten with bread or Saltine crackers. Not my favorite meal at all.
While I ate, I thought about all the food I could eat back in Texas, and it did not include coffee soup. I loved having a microwave oven where food could be cooked in seconds, or where food could also explode in seconds. I soon learned that mistake when I tried to cook an egg in one, and it exploded with such force the egg shredded to fine pieces. Microwavable food is not nearly as healthy as Amish-cooked meals, but I was glad to be spending more time on things I wanted to do, and spending less time cooking meals for an army. I was selfish.