This Reminds Me

Archive for July, 2009

Julie and I walked over to meet new neighbors Monday night.  As I stood chatting with the wife, she said they’d lived in Houston.  “Houston!”  I exclaimed.  “We used to live there, too.”   While we compared notes, Julia stood passively before interjecting, “I never lived in Houston.  I’m adopted.”

With three teenage daughters, it takes a lot to startle me.  But that comment did.  After a moment of leaden silence, I swallowed and said, “Well, Jules – tell her where you’re from.”  Julia did.  And a three-way conversation about places-we’ve-lived-and-why-we-love-San-Antonio conversation ensued.

Julia has never before offered up “I’m adopted” in front of me.  Not that she couldn’t have.  But she hasn’t.

So why Monday night?  Was it because – just before we went outside – I’d explained who the family was in Houston (our pre-Julia existence) whose son had sent us a thank-you note for a graduation gift?   Was it because the neighbor is expecting their first baby in September – and looks it?   Was it because the neighbor’s husband plays pro basketball, and may play in Russia next year?

Or maybe – just maybe – was it because she’d spent the entire day with Keith – seeing her sisters off to church camp, watching TV, running errands, just basking in his undivided attention in what she described as “the best day of my life?”

Three years later – there is still no place she’d rather be than with Keith. Or possibly above him.

Keith and I figured there would come a point when people around us didn’t know Julia was adopted.    Everyone who “knew us when,” of course, would know.  And it’s not like it’s a secret.  But it’s also not a just-met-the-neighbors talking point.

I think she’s more and more confident of not only who she is, but also who  she was.  She occasionally tells me about life in Russia now – usually at bedtime, when we are whispering to each other, snug in the rocking chair.  She tells me what she misses.  She recalls snippets of life and caregivers even before Children’s Home #47.   I bring up a few subjects she doesn’t, because I don’t want her afraid to talk about them.

When you know who you are – and you know who you were – I guess it’s easier to acknowledge facts that meld the two.

Like you never lived in Houston.

And you’re adopted.