surreal life (Family Part 1)

I am adopted, a fact that became evident at the age I was capable of surmising that the difference in skin tone and hair color between my half japanese brother and myself was not some coincidental quirk of gene mutation. I have, as I would assume any child who's biological origins are unknown, wondered about my parents, which quirks of my personality were due to certain gene characteristics and which to the characters on the television programs etched into my personality during my formative years.

I started a search a while back, or at least took the coward's way out and had a kindly friend start one for me. To no avail. She was gung-ho, even going so far as to call a poor, unsuspecting woman in Florida who, unfortunately, shared an age, name and military background with my biological mom. I had given up on it, or at least pushed it to the recesses of my thoughts, opting to focus on my life at hand rather than the life that is and the path that helped lead it to be so.

Things change.

A week ago I received my bi-weekly call from my mom (adoptive in this case, but no less than mom). It started out as they always do, we chatted about life currently, the days at hand and common small talk of our happenings and daily offerings. It quickly took an interesting and thoroughly unexpected turn when my mom told me that she had received a letter from the adoption agency that spoke of a "personal and family matter" that I needed to contact them about.

So many thoughts rush through one's mind at this moment, not all of which I would care to think about again. She left me the phone number and a request that I keep her included in the journey, a subtle favor that carries with it a lifetime of hope, fear and love.

Let me tell you, after hearing the same voice message "the person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable, please try back later" followed by a phone hanging up on you rather than leaving you an opportunity to leave a message, I can see why people become frustrated with the systems that are in place. Utilizing some resourcefulness I finally found an actual voice mail and left a message with the case worker in charge of my case, a Candice Johnson, a lady I knew nothing about save for her East Coast residence, but in whom 33 years of questions rested solely.

I first initiated the phone calls on a Friday, by Wednesday I had a actual conversation. The timing of the call, as would be expected, was less than ideal as I was in between classes but then time didn't really seem to register right then.

I had prepared myself for the call, rehearsing all of the scenarios and possible highs and lows. The call went much like I had expected it to up until Candice, in her Maryland accent, told me of my parents today.

When dealing with the possibility of reconnecting, the thought naturally (for most I would assume) turns to the mom. I mean, she is the one through whom you were given life, the one who carried and cared for you. And so I expected that that would be who I would be hearing about but, quickly, I found out that not only was my father looking for me as well but that my biological mom and dad had reconnected a few years ago and have been married since 2007. How odd and unexpected is that?

A message from my biological mom accompanied their request for my contact information "We hope this finds him well and blessed in his life. We do not want to interrupt or interfere in any way with his current life but would like to get in contact with him if this is something he would be willing to do. If not, we completely understand, but would like a picture if possible."

It didn't take me long to say that I would not mind at all getting in touch with them, I mean how many opportunities would I have to learn more about what makes me tick, not to mention the chance to get a full medical and family history. The case worker then told me that she would, through her organization, serve as the intermediary receiving any information and forwarding it on to me making sure that no contact info was included. I suppose this protects unwanting individuals from having to become more involved with a past they may have interest in, but would rather not be forced to come face to face with. She seemed startled when I asked her if I could just give her my info to pass along.

So here I am, my phone number, address and e-mail info is traveling slowly somewhere between here and the people who created me. I have been told that it would probably be two weeks of so before they it reached their doorstep. Amazingly, it seems the organization does not utilize e-mail and prefers to keep the post office in business...

So I sit and wait, afraid to answer any phone call with an area code I do not recognize. I am hoping that they write first, a call could be too much...