Fluke
““Well, I’m not sure who I look like…I was adopted,” I would say, relishing my moment in the spotlight.
“Adopted? Aren’t you curious about your parents?” was the normal response.
Yes, I always admitted. I was curious about my parents. I wanted a heritage, just like all of my friends. I wanted to be able to say, “I look just like my dad.” Every kid I knew, except me, had that ability.
Somewhere along the line, though, the interest faded. It was around the time I turned twenty-on...e or so. I remember the less attractive of the two women Sean and I were talking to one night asking me, “Don’t you wonder about your real parents?”
All I could respond with was, “I have real parents.”
I didn’t know if my biological parents were out there or not. I didn’t know if they thought about me. I didn’t know if they were alive. It seemed like a lot for me to wonder about, so I just accepted the fact that I had two parents that picked me, and that they loved me. Maybe I didn’t look like them, and maybe they warned me about diabetes in the family even though I didn’t share the same blood, but they were mom and dad, and it was all I had. The idea of having any other sort of parents became a pipe dream to me, and seemed about as attainable as winning the lottery. My parents had told me that it was better than being the average kid because they had actually chosen me as their son.MoreLess
“Adopted? Aren’t you curious about your parents?” was the normal response.
Yes, I always admitted. I was curious about my parents. I wanted a heritage, just like all of my friends. I wanted to be able to say, “I look just like my dad.” Every kid I knew, except me, had that ability.
Somewhere along the line, though, the interest faded. It was around the time I turned twenty-on...e or so. I remember the less attractive of the two women Sean and I were talking to one night asking me, “Don’t you wonder about your real parents?”
All I could respond with was, “I have real parents.”
I didn’t know if my biological parents were out there or not. I didn’t know if they thought about me. I didn’t know if they were alive. It seemed like a lot for me to wonder about, so I just accepted the fact that I had two parents that picked me, and that they loved me. Maybe I didn’t look like them, and maybe they warned me about diabetes in the family even though I didn’t share the same blood, but they were mom and dad, and it was all I had. The idea of having any other sort of parents became a pipe dream to me, and seemed about as attainable as winning the lottery. My parents had told me that it was better than being the average kid because they had actually chosen me as their son.MoreLess
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