we are everywhere

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Overheard at the Gate

Recently, I was offered and accepted a new job at the airport. I work at the gates and sometimes I am assigned a flight that is going to the city in which my first born lived from about the time he was five years old.

I cannot tell you how hard it is to stay focused on the job while I assist 50 passengers to board an airplane departing to the city where my son grew up. Absolutely crazy making for me. The pleasant, middle aged woman handing me her boarding pass may have been his next door neighbor. Her children may have played with him. She may have served him lunch at her kitchen table and been lucky enough to see my 7 year old son with mac and cheese smooshed on his chin. If she did, I hope she was kind to him. And if she was, I hope many blessings for her.

That older, refined gentleman wearing the grey vest may have been his 8th grade teacher and had the opportunity to encourage my son during a particularily rough school year. If he did, I hope he was kind to him. And if he was, I hope many blessings for him.

Any young man or woman handing me a boarding pass may have graduated from high school with my son.

One time, a young man boarding the plane to my son's hometown stopped dead in his tracks beside me as he handed over his boarding pass. He gaped at me with that "just seen a ghost" expression. I wondered especially if he might be a friend to my son and recognized me in away. My son and I look much alike. And of all my sons, my first born looks the most like me.

Sometimes, I am at the gate for a flight to another city and someone will rush to the counter in a panic to ask where is the gate to XXX city; the town where my son's
adoptive family still lives. I remain in professional mode and look up the gate number for the passenger.

Inside, I am screaming, "Do you know my son? Do you know the **** family?"
I quell that internal voice and do not allow myself to speak.

I do not wish to breech any trust that I have been able to build with my son. Anything that I learn of his parents needs to come directly from him. The world is really very small and it is likely that one of the passengers I encounter traveling to XXX does know my son or his adoptive parents. And my son and I are
forming our own relationship. As his mother, I feel that I have the primary responsibilty in building a foundation of trust and must do everything within my power to create and sustain an atmosphere of trust and safety within our relationship.

So as desperately hungry, as voracious as I am on some days to learn details of my son as a child or a teenager, I have to be patient and wait for the details that come from him; or any details that someday, I may learn from his adoptive family.

And what really matters the most to me is to know my son in the present and the opportunity to know and share in his life right now. My son is very kind to me.
And each day I hope and pray for many blessings on him.

About two weeks ago, I was working at the gate and I overheard a conversation between two men. One of them lives here in Minneapolis and was flying to his hometown of XXX city; my son's childhood home. This passenger said that if you plunked yourself down in a suburb of Minneapolis and then punked yourself down in a suburb of XXX city, you would not be able to tell the difference. Each location has rolling hills, lots of trees and lakes and rivers.


I learned this tidbit of my son's life without stepping over a trust breeching boundary. In a way, I was thrilled to have this morsel of information. And I listened and committed it to memory. As always it is bittersweet to hear and to take in.

7 Comments:

  • At 10:10 AM , Blogger HeatherRainbow said...

    I am always overjoyed at all information I receive about my daughter's city and possible life. I also imagine what she is doing quite often.

     
  • At 6:04 AM , Blogger dbannie said...

    Overjoyed...yeah, that is a very good decription of how it feels, too.

    I have to go over to your blog, Heather, because I don't know much of your story. I'll stop over and read soon.

     
  • At 7:00 PM , Anonymous reunited dan said...

    As a recently re-united adult adoptee, I sympathize with your fear of picking up the phone to call your birth son.

    Although my birth mom and I are speaking by phone just about weekly, I was completely paralyzed at the thought of calling her at first. Imagine a 44 year old successful, well adjusted man who was terrified to call her! I really thought if she had rejected me once, she might do it again. Happily, I was wrong!

    If he initiated the reunion, he wants to hear from you!

     
  • At 3:24 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

    This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

     
  • At 7:54 PM , Blogger dbannie said...

    Dan,

    Thanks for the encouragement to call him. We talk very easily on the phone once that number is dialed; still that fear creeps in for me to just pick up that phone.

    You are recently reunited! That is wonderful and am wishing the best for you. Would love to hear any of your story if you wish to tell about it.

     
  • At 5:02 AM , Blogger Reunited Dan said...

    It is such a unique time for me. I think (like you) my thoughts are all over the board and I am just now trying to capture them before they slip away.

    I'll comment more on your current blog.

    Take care!

     
  • At 11:26 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

    транссексуалы бесплатное порно
    секс мж м
    амстердам музей секса
    бесплатное порно видео азиаток
    смотреть бесплатно крутое порно видео
    отец дочь секс
    заниматся сексом
    телку ебут раком
    порно ролики беркова
    порнуха скачать бесплатно видео

     

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home