Meeting the parents (Family part 7)

In possession of their address, and having seen pictures, I knew that I now had everything of a physical and emotional nature I needed to prepare myself to meet my biological parents. Now all I had to do was take the biggest step, but hopping in my car and making the short 81 mile drive north was more difficult than it sounded.

Since the arrival of that first e-mail, that moment my life changed irrevocably, I knew I wanted and needed to meet them, a lifetime of questions begat from wonder and curiosity right before me, but my mind had flipped into a defense mode of excuse making I knew all too well. I flip flopped for days, finally coming to the conclusion that if I did not set a date I would continue to push it farther back than humanly fair to anyone involved. And so I set Sunday Feb 22 as M-day knowing that giving them this information would minimize the chance that I would again bail.

That Sunday started off as they often do, me headed out to coach soccer games, my plan being to continue from my second game in Forest Grove to their home in Tigard where I would stay for an hour or so, long enough to get to know them but short enough that evening plans could excuse me should things get too involved for me to handle.

Perhaps it was due to the incredible weight of anticipation on my brain but I recall neither game as being particularly inspired, the Red Hots tying 0-0 to a team a year younger as their focus was more on playing Cupid between myself and their science teacher than the game. I was warned that she would be there, and guess I should be flattered that the girls are trying to set me up with their favorite teacher, but I was more focused on the afternoon ahead than anything else. The boys were no better, though their excuse had nothing to do with matchmaking, and lost 4-1 after being up 1-0 to a good side at halftime, their lack of focus in the first couple of minutes of the second half dooming them.

Immediately following the game I made a slow trek to my car, words of encouragement elicited from various parents who knew where I was headed, and I sank into my driver's seat as ready as I could emotionally be to make the 45 minute trip.

As I drove along Highway 8, a long stretch of intermittent farms and street lights winding their way to Highway 217, I followed a route I knew well but found myself searching for some viable reason for an about face or getting lost, my defense system again in high gear. I was definitely nervous, the wonderment of what I was in store for not quite sinking in, and various scenarios ran through my analytical head, but I hit peace with it all as I made the turn down their street.

I knew that they were both unemployed, victims of a current economic environment that swallows whole the strong and meek alike, and I didn't really know what to expect from their house. Pulling up to the modern gray and red trimmed two story home I was pleasantly surprised as a well manicured front yard, it's bushes and trees looking like they were taken care of weekly, stared back at me. I walked slowly up to the front door, the decision of knocking or ringing the door bell taking on more significance than it ever had.

I opted to knock and let my knuckles lightly rap at the wooden door. From inside I could hear quick little steps and heard the latch click as the door swung slowly open. There, standing in front of me, was Laura, the exact same woman from the Facebook pictures I had been perusing, blond haired and bespectacled, an impish grin somewhere between excitement and shock on her lips. I could tell she was in disbelief, the emotion of meeting her child after 34 years obviously outweighing any preparedness she could have mustered. Holding her arms out sheepishly, she reached to give me a hug and held on for awhile, not wanting to let go as the thought that I may somehow vanish again for another 34 years crossed her mind. The hug was warm and loving but I noticed a lack of emotion from myself, my mind still lost in the surrealness that had become my life.

We chatted on the stairwell for a brief moment, small talk bridging any nervous gaps, when she introduced me to her landlady. A quizzical look must have crossed my face as Laura hurriedly explained that they rent out the downstairs while their landlady, a nice, dark haired woman of about 45, lived upstairs. The landlady and I exchanged pleasantries, a look of something beyond curiosity flashing across her face, and I was lead down the stairs to my bio parent's apartment.

As I reached the door at the bottom of the stairs I felt a presence to my left and looked over as my bio father, Jim, a shockingly tall man of 6' 3", complexion darker than I envisioned, ambled out of their bedroom. We briefly stared, not quite sure what to make of each other, both shocked a bit that this was actually happening, and I stretched out my hand for a handshake. He took it tightly and we shook for a brief instant, the handshake quickly turning into hug and I was again held tighter than expected as the years of questions as to my existence melted instantly for him.

They invited me into their kitchen and my bio father and I sat down on either side of the counter, my mom opting to stand, their eyes both still wide from the shock of seeing their child finally in front of them. I was offered a beer and quickly accepted, the thought of cold familiarity sounding refreshing. The apartment was small, consisting of a bedroom and a kitchen/living room separated by a hallway, but was keenly decorated with a distinct Japanese flair, their formative and shared years obviously leaving a lasting impression.

I had expected waterworks out of her, after what I was warned of from our conversations as well as what I had heard from both of her daughters, but was somewhat surprised as she managed to keep it together, though I think the fact that her eyes remained as large as silver dollars kept them too dry to tear. For the next hour and a half we asked and answered questions, feeling each other out not quite knowing what to make of it all, the shared trippiness of the whole situation disallowing the reality to fully sink in for any of us.

It is interesting, and I am sure that many a psychologist and biologist would love to sit us all down for research, but it was almost as if life had, in this case, flipped nature and nurture. Looking at, listening to and watching them I seemingly shared more physical features with my adoptive mom and dad than with the two before me while a lack of shared environment seemed to have had no effect of those things one would expect out of nurture. I knew, looking at the pictures of them I was sent, that a shared resemblance was not expected, and that did not change now that I was face to face, but I was surprised at the shared personality quirks, thought patterns and body language I was seeing before me.

Perhaps sensing my thoughts of a biological disconnect Jim and Laura took out a small manila envelope stuffed with pictures of them chronicalling their lives from birth to a date only a few years ago in hopes that I would see more shared physical features. Pulling the pictures out of the folder and going over them slowly I did definitely see some similarities, especially between he and myself at the shared ages of 10 and below, but I was struck with the thought that perhaps my lack of sight is due more to an ignorance of what I am supposed to be looking for than an actual lack of physical evidence.

We chatted and went over pictures for an hour and a half, the visit breaking down the questions of the years as quickly as it was producing more. I knew they wanted me to stay longer but the weight of the moment proved to be too much and I opted to decompress, a mental break begging to be released from my mind. As I drove away in my car I saw Laura dancing giddily in her driveway, her body racing to give Jim a hug and smiled.

I was definitely happy I had come and knew I would be back, but right then I needed the hour drive of silence and solitude, the short drive south allowing my mind to wander and my body to relax. The surreal nature of my life set in, but I chose to let the steady hum of my tires on pavement become my focus and instead let the silence of the night settle my mind.