Dear Darlings,

Many of you have followed up with me about Meeting Megan.

“How did things go?” You asked.

“What was it like?” You inquired.

“My mom was adopted. She’s been looking. I’d love to tell her your story.” You said.

“Did it go well?” You wanted to know.

I’ll get to all of that, but first some background. In all of my life, I’ve had wishes and dreams. Places in my heart I kept buried deep, but wished fervently for them to come true.

All of my life I wanted green eyes. I don’t know why I wanted that particular wish, but I wished it and wished it and wished it. My eyes have slowly grown more green over the years. Some days they’re bright and vibrant green, other days they are a dark muddy green with flecks of brown, but still greenish. Wish granted.

I also wanted curly hair. For years in high school and college I underwent perm after perm to achieve the perfect curly hair. I wished for it. Now it’s curlier than I ever imagined (mostly thanks to Jo teaching me how to care for naturally curly hair that I didn’t know I had.) Wish granted.

These are two little, minute things I wished for, and was given.

A huge wish I had when I was a kid, was for a family of my own. One where I knew I belonged, where I saw people who looked like me. A relatively normal family. Stan and I have worked tirelessly over the past 27 years to create the dream I wished for. We made it come true together. Is it a perfect family? No. But is it mine? Yes! Yes! A thousand times YES!

My biggest wish, though, was to have a sister. It was a wish I kept locked in a secret vault in my heart. I knew it was a far-fetched thing to wish for, and I would have been fool-hardy to keep that wish out in the forefront of my life. Why wish for something that can never happen? Why waste a wish on someone who doesn’t exist?

Unless she does.

Meeting Megan was a chapter in my l life I never thought I’d get to read. I knew she existed. I learned about her almost 20 years ago, now, but I never thought meeting her would ever happen. Even after we started exchanging letters two years ago. I didn’t think much would come to fruition, except for notes back and forth to a relative stranger. Notes which became more personal as we wrote, but I still didn’t put much stock into anything coming out of them. I mean, if my interactions with my biological mother, Denise (who also happens to be Megan’s mom), were any indicator…I didn’t have much faith.

I went into our weekend almost in a daze. I didn’t let myself feel much. As Stan drove us to Raleigh, I was silent. He said later I didn’t say two words to him on the three hour trip. He wasn’t mad about it. It was just an observation of his. It’s what I do when I don’t want to feel too much. I get quiet. I didn’t want to get my hopes up that this was going to be anything but a meeting of two individuals who would get to know each other and then part ways, accepting that this was a finishing touch on a project. Or at least, that’s how I approached it.

Stan and I checked into our room, freshened up and headed to the restaurant where Megan and Hans were waiting. We chatted amicably on our walk, talking about nothing and everything. Things I can’t remember. Inconsequential things. Because a thing of consequence was coming into existence at the end of our walk.

Stan opened the door for me and I walked in. They were there, just as Megan said they would be. She and I embraced. My throat ached for a minute as we hugged. I tamped down the tears that threatened to spill. I looked at her. She looked at me. We covertly studied each other as we sat across from each other. I noticed our nails were painted similar colors. And we both were wore a version of burgundy/deep purple on top. Stan and Hans filled in the conversation gaps where we were too busy trying to quietly look for similarities. But then, something magical happened. The conversation flowed. We talked all afternoon. We talked well into the evening, shutting down the hotel bar. We reconvened at breakfast and talked about everything and nothing. We talked about Denise. We talked about Megan’s other siblings (one who is also a half-brother of mine). It was comfortable and somehow familiar.

I’m not saying everything will be sunshine and roses from here on out. There are years of history we don’t share, which she has with her other siblings. But there is definitely something there. Something to build on. A sisterhood to work towards. I have a sister. My biggest wish.

xo,

me