Union Station
I've been practicing saying Ho trovato mio padre biologico. I have found my biological father, and next semester, I want to talk about it.
Late Friday afternoon, Stephen flew in to Indianapolis International from Boston. Stephen had only ever been to Indy on a bus trip for the inaugural game at the RCA Dome. I had only been to the new airport once since it opened in November, and my visit was limited to curb-side pickup. It took few minutes to find each other, as we were both wandering in new territory. I was on the street level; he was on the third floor. We stayed connected by phone as we looked for one another, and finally we realized he was on the cross bridge just above me, both of us heading from the airport to the car rental. He turned the corner from the escalator just as I approached its bottom.
"We've found each other!" I cried out. We hugged, and then hugged again, again, again.
While realizing our parallel paths, I couldn't help but smile at the poetry. I found poetry over the place this weekend.
The itinerary was loose. I showed Stephen my old haunts in Zionsville, my desk at work, my art, my childhood home. As we drove around Indianapolis, I pointed out favorite restaurants, shortcuts through town, places of memories. It felt like a four day tour of my life; he drove most of the time and I gave directions, told stories, and listened.
It's clear that I'm the child of Stephen and Sharon - my natal parents, my creators, the initiators of my life. But it's also clear that I've been raised by the parents who adopted me. It is so fascinating to examine life through the lens of reunion. There is so much I don't understand, so much I want to understand but that will take much time. How fortunate am I that so many people have asked for me to be in this world.
