Today is my 39th birthday. (And the first snow in central Maine has fallen.) I thought it appropriate, therefore, to conclude excerpts from Fumbling Toward Divinity in honor of National Adoption Month continued from here with the following entry:
1
It is dark. It takes them a little while to locate the right unit. Craig anticipates what’s about to happen, his anxiety stiff and peaked like whipped egg whites. What will she look like?
The time is near.
Will she recognize him?
The time is near.
How will she react?
The time is near.
They find the right unit. Uncle James, still talking on the phone with Sonja, knocks on the door. Job aims the video camera at the door.
Craig stands away from the door, away from his husband and uncle. James knocks again.
“Who is it?” a voice replies. Is it hers? Or his sister’s?
“It’s Uncle James.”
The door opens. She appears in blue-green shorts and a white T-shirt. Her face shrouded with hair.
“It’s the CIA.” James laughs his shrill and infectious laugh.
“I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow.”
“Well, I’m here now. Mind if I bring my friends in with me?”
“Not at all. Who are your friends?”
They exchange pleasantries.
Craig shakes her hand, quickly, and steps inside, trembling.
“So who are your friends?”
“This is Job.” Job shakes her hand.
“Job’s full name is Jacobus, which means James.” Cell phone still live with Aunt Sonja, Uncle James steps inside and away from Craig.
“Who is this?”
“You know who he is.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
With the back of her right hand, she pushes her long hair out of her face. She studies Craig’s face. He has her protruding bottom lip. She studies closer. He has her exact caramel-colored skin with the reddish tint.
Closer.
He has that slightly squinted left eye that reflects her tightly squinted right eye.
And closer still.
She cocks her head subtly to the right, but not so subtly that he doesn’t notice, and furrows her brow.
“It’s been thirty-three years.”
But she doesn’t hear Job, because she already knows.
“My son?”
He nods.
“Wow.” She raises her right hand. “Joseph.”
He nods again.
She steps forward to hug him. He clenches her.
“Oh, my God.”
His water breaks.
“Oh, my God.”
His earth quakes.
“Oh, my God.”
His bow breaks.
“Oh, my God.”
His heart aches.
“Oh, my God.”
He can’t let go.
“Oh, my God.”
He won’t let go.
“Oh, my God.”
She rocks him slowly side to side.
“Oh, my God.”
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
“Ohm’God.”
“It’s okay.”
“Ohm’God.”
He buries his head in her shoulder.
“Ohm’God.”
She strokes his head.
“Ohm’God.”
She rocks him slowly and strokes his head.
“Ohm’ God.”
His earth quakes
“Ohm’God.”
His water breaks.
“Ohm’God.”
And he wails three decades and three years of tears.
And time stands still.
1
It is dark. It takes them a little while to locate the right unit. Craig anticipates what’s about to happen, his anxiety stiff and peaked like whipped egg whites. What will she look like?
The time is near.
Will she recognize him?
The time is near.
How will she react?
The time is near.
They find the right unit. Uncle James, still talking on the phone with Sonja, knocks on the door. Job aims the video camera at the door.
Craig stands away from the door, away from his husband and uncle. James knocks again.
“Who is it?” a voice replies. Is it hers? Or his sister’s?
“It’s Uncle James.”
The door opens. She appears in blue-green shorts and a white T-shirt. Her face shrouded with hair.
“It’s the CIA.” James laughs his shrill and infectious laugh.
“I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow.”
“Well, I’m here now. Mind if I bring my friends in with me?”
“Not at all. Who are your friends?”
They exchange pleasantries.
Craig shakes her hand, quickly, and steps inside, trembling.
“So who are your friends?”
“This is Job.” Job shakes her hand.
“Job’s full name is Jacobus, which means James.” Cell phone still live with Aunt Sonja, Uncle James steps inside and away from Craig.
“Who is this?”
“You know who he is.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
With the back of her right hand, she pushes her long hair out of her face. She studies Craig’s face. He has her protruding bottom lip. She studies closer. He has her exact caramel-colored skin with the reddish tint.
Closer.
He has that slightly squinted left eye that reflects her tightly squinted right eye.
And closer still.
She cocks her head subtly to the right, but not so subtly that he doesn’t notice, and furrows her brow.
“It’s been thirty-three years.”
But she doesn’t hear Job, because she already knows.
“My son?”
He nods.
“Wow.” She raises her right hand. “Joseph.”
He nods again.
She steps forward to hug him. He clenches her.
“Oh, my God.”
His water breaks.
“Oh, my God.”
His earth quakes.
“Oh, my God.”
His bow breaks.
“Oh, my God.”
His heart aches.
“Oh, my God.”
He can’t let go.
“Oh, my God.”
He won’t let go.
“Oh, my God.”
She rocks him slowly side to side.
“Oh, my God.”
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
“Ohm’God.”
“It’s okay.”
“Ohm’God.”
He buries his head in her shoulder.
“Ohm’God.”
She strokes his head.
“Ohm’God.”
She rocks him slowly and strokes his head.
“Ohm’ God.”
His earth quakes
“Ohm’God.”
His water breaks.
“Ohm’God.”
And he wails three decades and three years of tears.
And time stands still.
5 comments:
Happy birthday! And cool blog. Glad I found it.
- Joe
Happy Birthday Craig! I got the book. thank you so much, I can't wait to read it.
Thanks for the goodwill, Joe and Damion.
Joe, I'm checking you out right now.
Damion, you are more than welcome. I hope you like it!
Is that your mother?????
This post made me feel all squirly. I love reunion posts.
Yes, kim.kim, that is my birth mother.
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