Robyn, reunited:
adoption, family, and learning how to fly
It hadn’t really occurred to me that a funeral would bring about the chance to meet my biological aunts, uncles, cousins and grandfather for the first time... Not only would I be mourning... I would be making a first impression on the rest of my birth mother’s family.
I got out my laptop and sat on a barstool in my kitchen, browsing Facebook and practicing the best self-control I could. I have a little brother. I typed in his name and a profile appeared of a teenager from my hometown. Not just from my hometown, but from my high school. I clicked on his page, and my jaw dropped
My biological dad looked eerily similar to the way he looked in a dream I had as a child. He was tall with whispy strawberry blonde hair. His skin had a pink tint to it. He wore dark wash jeans that fit him well, with a light blue button down shirt and flip-flops.
The conversation with my adoptive parents about meeting my birth parents was not an easy one to have. It happened over a span of a lifetime, right up to the day of actually hugging my birth parents for the first time. It’s still a dialogue we keep up with, as they have now re-entered my life as real living beings, instead of this idea I had of who they could be.
