Ta da! I’m adopted!
Believe it or not, this is not my first time writing about adoption. Somewhere in the desolate, forgotten land that is my Drafts tab there is a pretty interesting blog post all about it. It might surface one of these days, but for now I feel like writing about my recent adventure to connect with my biological family.
This visit actually amounted because of said blog post. But it was also way over do. I don’t care whether you’re adopted or not, a person should never go more than a year without seeing their family. I think it had been about 3 or 4 since I’d seen them, which won’t happen again.
So there I was, on a mission! One, to not die on the airplane. Two, to understand where I come from and get to know the people waiting in the wings.
I feel like it was more pressing that I go on this journey to others than to me. I just wanted to spend time with them. As it was an open adoption, I’ve known the important details my whole life. My mom loves me dearly, my dad sucks, and they wanted me to grow up in Suburbia. Done. But this weekend was so much more than a meet and greet. It was looking at pictures of lives I missed out on, seeing firsthand the world I would have lived in, and finally coming to peace with my own life.
I’ve spent my week contemplating the odds and ends of my situation. I understand God’s idea now. I had to grow up here. It’s not because of my temperament, because I’m not sure I would have been any less positive than I am now. It’s because if I had grown up in my hometown, I wouldn’t have met my sweetheart or found Sam Houston. The people I know now, the family I’ve planted myself in; they would all go on without me just like I would go on without them. It all had to happen, and it will continue as it should, with my bridge to both families.
However, there is still a nagging feeling to know the girl I would have been. I’ve always been a curious stickler for the details, so I can’t help but wonder. If I met her on the street would we be friends? What kind of music would she listen to? Christian, like her mother? Would she enjoy writing as much as I do? Or painting? Or even Theatre? Living in a northern Texas city, would I have a different taste in men? I admire the way they hold onto God and his precious mercy. It inspires me now, and I know it would have inspired me before. They insist I wouldn’t be as sweet as I am, but I know deep down that’s not true. I don’t know what trials I would have been through had I lived there, but it hasn’t been smooth sailing my whole life, and I’m still me. But I’ll never know. It won’t ever be answered in a final manner.
Even with the ghost of the girl lost in transition, I learned so much! Like the fact that I have 4 different types of indian in my ancestry, and my great-grandfather or uncle was a 7 ft Irishman! Now I know who to blame for my height!
Now, all I can do is get better acquainted with the other side of my family and make up for the time missed. I know I’ll go back to that flat, beautiful city, and there will be many more happy experiences with them.