Connections

The house was as clean as it was going to get.

The groceries were bought and the food prepared.

I was freshly showered, dressed in my casual but approachable outfit.

My face made up, my hair blown dry and straightened.

I had resisted the urge to google:

meeting my half brother - adoption reunion etiquette.

ok, that's a lie. I googled it.

Adrenaline pumped through me. 

I was excited and nervous, and happy.  I felt uncomfortable buzzy.  I wanted to release some of my extra adrenaline, but the problem was,

 I wasn't sure if crying, laughing or squealing like a fifteen year old girl at a rock concert would give me the release I was looking for.

So I paced.

I fidgeted,

 and yes, my favorite anxiety buster,

I swore. 

A lot.

Fuck, that's going to make a great impression.

  

Once my Mom and my sister arrived, I felt better.

Or, at least I didn't feel so alone.

Mom watched the window for Jon to arrive.

When he pulled in the driveway, she waited at the door.

And Jon he came in,

my mother embraced her son.

Her child who she had waited forty six years to hold.

The energy was magical,

 just as pure,

just as beautiful

 as when any mother holds her child for the first time.

We visited.  We cried.

We laughed and shared.
And it all felt so easy.

I came away from meeting my brother wanting more.

More stories.

More conversations.

More time.

More connections.

I realized my fear, my anxiety wasn't

What if he doesn't like me -

or

What if I don't like him -

What I was worried about was
despite all of our courage

we wouldn't connect.

and then I realized with a smile on my face this morning, that I had
 

Underestimated the power of family.

Welcome Jon and Donna

xo