Looking thru Casey’s archives I find many great post on adoption, the early days. No doubt, someone is the same position and will benefit form her knowledge. M
Today I’m not in my usual coffee spot, but this scene is a passable substitute. All available: caffeine, a comfy chair and cool conversation. Good enough. Today’s crowd is more I’m-yuppie-but-think-I’m-hipster than eclectic, so I settle in, find my bubble and ignore most of my surroundings. Jerky movements catch my eye. I focus on the individual at the counter.
Let me digress one moment. We tell our children “everyone’s alike on the inside; if you cut us open (which, by the way, is not allowed), we all look the same.” Hubby describes my inattention to difference this way: “If a prostitute walked into church and sat alone, Casey would be the first one to go sit with her.” That’s why this next part really bothers me.
As aforementioned, I focus on the gawky guy waiting for his brew. Gawky really isn’t the right word. He obviously thinks he’s “gangsta.” Skinny, almost anorexic; his elbow bones…
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