First Things

I am 32 years old, and was adopted as a new baby in 1975. I have never met my birth parents. I've had a lot of opportunity to think about the question, 'what is it like to be adopted?' I suppose it's different for everyone, but for me it's as though there's a book I can pick up off the shelf every now and again that helps me know my identity. It reminds me things about myself when I forget. I can read about my life growing up, the parents who gave me a good home, the friends who've loved me, my wife. They all help me know something about myself. I've been to Ireland twice, and that's a whole chapter. When I think about where I'm going, or when I face a challenge and consider what tools I've been given to deal with it, I draw from these pages to help guide me. They contain my idea of myself, my foundation, my identity.

One whole chapter, however, is full of blank pages. When I flip through this book, I'm left with one big question mark-- where did my DNA come from? I know I have much of the strong character traits of my adoptive father, but who has gone before my bones and my muscles? Who gave my body it's strong traits? How strong are they? What about my smile, my crazy eyebrows? The pages are empty. The questions remain.

I hope to put something on these pages in the next few months, years. I'm not overly concerned with what fills them (I'll deal with all that in time), but my current urgency is to fill the pages with the info I don't have about myself.

We'll see what happens...