slowtron

My mum had a boy when she was 16. After being sent away by her father to have the child, she put him up for adoption. I know that over the years she has often thought of him - where he was; what kind of man he had turned out to be. Fourteen years ago she put her name in a database that would allow adopted children to find their parents and on Monday the call came.

She called me at work - nervous, happy, terrified. I met her and sat with her while she mustered up the courage to call. Eventually, after a few cups of tea she dialed the number and talked to her son for the first time in 38 years.

Tonight we went for coffee and talked - talked about people in my life and talked about Wade - the new addition to her life. She talked about how scared she was and how nervous meeting him on Saturday made her. She can think of nothing else. In it though, in all of it's heaviness and loveliness, she smiled that smile that I love and laughed a little. "The thing that really worries me is that I won't like him. Then what?"

Then she smiled some more and sipped her coffee.