The Day the Motorcycles Came
Every day for a week I asked, "When will they be here Mama?" And every day for a week Mama answered, "They’ll come on Saturday Anna."
Your friend J.P. promised they would come and they will. And all week, thinking about meeting so many new friends, made me feel better and made the ‘owie’ in my heart seem not quite so bad.
When Saturday finally came Mama cut rolled dough into buttery, sugary, spiral-like wheels with raisins tucked safe inside. There were cinnamon rolls all around the kitchen, raising, baking, and waiting to be eaten. I sat biting my lip and wishing I was tucked away, safe as a raisin.
We invited most everyone to come for the big day. Grandpa and grandma were the first to arrive moving into the warm, sweet smelling kitchen with hugs for everyone; me, my parents, my brothers and sisters. Then Aunti Tam and her baby Jordan came. More hugs, and Aunti Kimberlily and Becca and Uncle James. Still more hugs. And then my dog Sasha wagged in, nose sniffing. I think she came for the cinnamon rolls.
We sat in the kitchen smiling, and smelling, and waiting.
How much longer? I asked.
Soon, Dad whispered.
I licked the frosting from my fingers as my tummy did cinnamon flavored cartwheels and my family smiled and spoke in rain soft words.
Suddenly Sashas' ears perked up and we all grew silent as we heard something far off, coming closer, closer, bigger, louder, closer. The sound of rolling thunder moving toward us. We stayed very still. Nothing moving, except that the closer, the louder, the bigger the noise grew, the wider our eyes grew and the more our mouths dropped open.
Then the house began to shudder, almost shake with noise, with energy, with sound. Mama reached for my hand as we all turned toward the door moving as if pulled by a strange sort of music. And then we saw them, like a swarm of bees after honey, they were everywhere, moving in and around and back and through. They packed our street so full there was not street left to see.
Motorcycles.Motorcycles.Motorcycles.
One by one the bikes slowed and were parked, the engines stopped, quiet, quieter, quietest. The riders walked toward us as we stood huddled together on the lawn. My friend J.P. came right up to me and called, Hey look everybody, Its Anna. All together, the whole bunch of bikers dressed in black leather and fingerless gloves and tattoos and beards and sunglasses and headbands and . . . smiles, all together in one voice said; H-e-l-l-o Anna! Their loud hello pushed me closer to Mama but already the butterflies in my tummy and begun to melt into homey colored sunshine; all warm.
Mama lifted me up and I buried my head in her neck and then my friend J.P. patted my back and whispered, "You see Anna; I promised I would bring my family to meet you.” Then each biker, one at a time, shook my hand. Howdy Anna, said the first man with a bushy beard and no hair on top. Did you know I’m your brother? Hi honey. Said a lady whose smile wrinkles reminded me of grandma. I’m your sister. Then a big lady with big, red hair patted my cheek. Hi sweetheart. We love you.
That was only the beginning. That day I met sixty-two new brothers and sisters. Then they all came close, circling around us, my old family and me, like we were raisins tucked safe inside a cinnamon roll and my friend J.P. asked, "Do you know what B.A.C.A. means Anna?" I shook my head no. Everybody in my big new family nodded a yes we do. We heard that somebody hurt you and we don’t like it when kids get hurt. They shook their scowling faces back and forth in a no we don’t. So I’ll tell you what were going to do Anna. Since were all part of your family now were going to take a family picture. Then if anyone ever tries to hurt you, you just show them your family picture and say, I wouldn’t even try it if I were you!
Most everybody laughed. Mama And Dad and Grandma and Grandpa and all my family old and new, they all laughed. Except for Aunti Tam. She had quiet tears rolling down her cheeks as she held baby Jordan close. I could tell they were understanding tears. And when she saw me smiling at her, she smiled back.
Mom brought out cinnamon rolls to everyone and we all ate and talked and Sasha wagged her tail, a lot.
J.P. said, "Let’s take that picture with your new B.A.C.A. family." So we posed for the picture, nearly filling up the whole lawn; some standing some kneeling some sitting just like my other family photos and J.P., instead of say cheese said, Say B.A.C.A. It was a loud happy, filling the whole sky B.A.C.A.. Then we smiled our own cheesy smiles and he took the picture.
Ill have this ready for you soon Anna.
They waved goodbye. Climbed on their bikes, started the engines, one, then another, till our whole street was a thundering storm cloud rolling away. The new part of my family, waving and smiling and blowing kisses. The old part of my family standing bunched together like grapes; watching, eyes blinking, smiles twitching.
Me, I was tucked in the middle, feeling very, very safe.
In a beautiful city surrounded by mountains lives a group of people who are crazy about children and motorcycles. So when J.P., a child abuse counselor says, I have a friend who needs a bigger family, they all hop on their bikes, start up their engines, and roar off to spread a little kindness; a little strength. They call themselves B.A.C.A. Bikers Against Child Abuse. When Anna or any of the children they have visited see member of their B.A.C.A. family out in the community they remember all over again the power of that personal visit just for them Our family is grateful for their goodness and that we are now all part of the family; a family of people who love children.
The above is one of the testimonials off of the bacausa website. It was written by one of the abused children in a blog format, and I copied it here. Warning-it is a tear jerker.
For more info, goto www.bacausa.com
