Monday, February 13, 2006

Looking back.

I remember waking up at 5 am, sick to my stomach. While I waited for daylight, I stood in the bathroom, staring into the mirror. What kind of first impression would I give? Am I what she expected?
I remember driving down the highway, gazing out the window but seeing nothing. I was terrified, excited, and feeling like a little girl, all at once. I wanted to hurry, I wanted to slow down, I wanted to turn around and go home.
What would I say? How do you relate an entire childhood's worth of days into one conversation? Would I say the wrong thing? What if there was only silence, the space filled with the realization that I am a stranger and don't belong?
I kept going over and over in my head the things I wanted to say, to ask. Every time I pulled over to be sick, I worried that I was wasting time and would be late. Late? What's another 5 minutes compared to the years in between?
I remember reading the street signs, and then saying "This is it. This is the street where she lives." I watched the house numbers, but I didn't need to. I knew the house as soon as I saw it. It took every once of power I had to turn in and not just drive by. I don't remember getting out of the car, or walking up the front steps. But I do remember her saying "Oh, don't cry!" I remember that moment when she hugged me, and I said "hi" to my mother for the first time. And I will never forget looking into my mother's face.

12 comments:

Y said...

Wow, that made me cry.

Happy valentines day.

xoxo

debby said...

Yeah..what "y" said. Hope you have a wonderful day.

Michele said...

What a powerful post, and no doubt a very-powerful memory. Thank you for sharing it. I simply adore your "written voice." Have you ever considered writing a memoir? Really, you would write a wonderful one.

carol said...

Gee, your last few posts have a real somber feel to them. You're usually so cheery and upbeat. Hope all is well...

laura said...

...wow.

i'm bawling over here.

Lisa said...

Very moved, but also very confused - "Were you adopted?" If so, "How did I miss that?" "SHEESH!"

Lisa

Tish said...

I remember the first time I met my 'birth' father. It was too much to put into words for a 17 year old then. Now, at 36, I wonder what if I was ready.
Great post. I am trying to visit everyone on my blogroll so you know I didn't fall off of the earth, or worse, join Scientology.

Beth said...

I remember too. I remember watching you get out of the car and come up the steps - I remember the exact pattern on the sweater you were wearing and the curl in your red hair. Trying to reconcile the young woman coming towards me with the baby I remembered. Knowing you expected & needed something from this meeting and being terrified I couldn't deliver. I had already failed you once. But we both wanted the same thing....and so, the day you pulled into my driveway made me the luckiest woman alive.
Second chances - gotta love them.
Love Beth (Mom)

Robin said...

I can identify with your experience in a small way, at least. I met an older half brother (at least 30 years older) about 10 years ago. I had never met my father (who died) so this was going to be the closest I was going to get. We couldn't get enough of looking at each other and wondering whether we saw parts of ourselves in the other's face. I feel honored to read your post, thanks for sharing.

Viamarie said...

That is a very touching post.

Am here from Michele's.

JustLinda said...

Very powerful... so very poignant.

I don't (yet?) know enough of your story to know if it has a happy ending or not, but reading this part? Gosh, I sure hope that relationship has turned out positive.

wendy said...

Wow that was lovely... and what beth said too. thank you that was a great post to read. very sweet.