A Segue And a Pear Tree

You know when you're reading something, a novel, a newspaper article, a blog, and you get a couple paragraphs in ... and you think, what did I just read?  'Cause I was totally just thinking about the time Matt Damon was all, "Hey Jamie, wanna go grab a drink?"  And I was like, "Oh, Matt Damon, come on, we're both married."  And he was all, "You know, you don't have to call me Matt Damon anymore.  You can call me Mattie."  You know that feeling?  Yeah, me too.  Or you're driving home and as you pull into your driveway you think, how did I just get home?  'Cause I totally only remember when Matt Damon was all broken down on the side of the freeway, and I was all heroic and I offered to give him a ride (insert comedic drum sound here)...

Anyways, I'm kind of there right now.  It's not a bad place to be, except you forget to remember that you're talking to a grandpa about how successful his son's adoption process went, whilst your own kids are running into people's sunburned legs.  

"Pardon me.  I'm sorry.  I was day dreaming.  How's that coffee feel?  On your leg?  Aloe vera?"

TWO adoption stories were gift-wrapped beautifully today, and given to me with shiny, pretty bows.  TWO beautiful children who were scooped up into loving families through the miracle of adoption.  I think I'm walking around with the Scarlet Letter on me, only my Letter A is screaming ADOPTION.

There, I said it.

I want to.

Really, I do.

As for the husband... he indulges my fantasy every now and then.  It's a start.  Like today when he complimented the brown skinned, chubby-legged, weeble wobble, gorgeous baby to her proud (adoptive) parents.  It's a tease.  It gets me fired up.  

Speaking of gift wrap... (nice segue), look what I won over at Wendi 's place...

No, not that adorable little boy up there...

Look down here...

That cool Duke visor on my little girlie (she was temporarily borrowing it).  Yup, I wish I had taken a photo of Wendi's lovely handwriting and pretty gift wrap, but I was too eager to rip it open and place it on my noggin.  Thanks Wendi!  I love it!  And the gummy bears and sour worms are DELISH.  I know they were for the kids.  I shared them, sort of.  

One more camera phone picture of my Hula Boy.

The back is feeling much better!  Yay. Hope you all are enjoying your summer.  Thank goodness for frequent flyer miles and hotel points and rental car points and ... 

Letter to My Dead Grandmother

Dear Catherine,

Hi.  My name is Jamie.  I am your granddaughter.  You probably already knew that, but unfortunately we never had the chance to meet.  So I thought I'd write to you and tell you about some of the things I wish you could have known.

In 1958 a child was born, your child.  She was a beautiful little girl.  You probably saw her, but maybe only briefly before she was whisked away to be adopted.  You were probably even told not to bond with her, after all, if you wouldn't be keeping her, then why bother going through the heartache.  Maybe they told you that you should go on living as if it never happened.  You were probably told to forget about her, to go on with your life.  But I bet you never did.  You carried that baby.  And you were faced with some tough decisions, for in the 1950's young, pregnant, unwed women must not have been looked upon very highly.

But I want you to know that I look upon you with great compassion and admiration.  Things have changed.  And whatever decisions led you to give up that baby, I want you to know that I am proud of you.  I am proud of your strength and courage.  And you would be proud of the daughter that was born unto you.  I am.  She is my mother.

Your daughter, my mother was nourished by your heart, your spirit, and your strength.  Your daughter went on to be an extremely strong and independent woman.  Your daughter may never have had the opportunity to meet you, because you were taken away in a car accident when my mother was only 14.  But somehow I think you have been with her all along.  And if you were with her, then you are with me.  Yes, we are bound by DNA, but I think there is more to it than that.

At 17, your daughter became pregnant, with me.  Times were only slightly different than your own pregnancy.  Your daughter grew up in a strict, Catholic adoptive home.  She was frowned upon, and probably even encouraged to give me up, as you did.  But my mother made a brave choice as well.  Did you guide her in this decision?  Did the pain of giving up your own baby spill from the Heavens and lead her to keep me?  I'm so thankful that she did.

Because your daughter, my mother, carries your strength.  She was young, but she has been selfless and generous with her love.  When there was little food, guess who went without?  When there were not enough bedrooms, guess who slept in the living room?  When there was a holiday, guess who came through?  My mother has more than your eyes... she has your generous heart. 

Because of you, there is her.

Because of you, she went on to have me. 

Then she had twin boys.  Then, later, she had another boy.

Because of you, there is her.  Because of her, there is me.  Because of me there are my children.

Thank you Catherine.  I honor you.  I honor your memory.  I carry you, and now so too do my own children.  Please continue to watch over us Grandma.  

Love,

jamie