I knew that if I could weave new fabric into the tapestry of my family, fill in what was missing, I could find redemption in a story that had so much heartache.
Linda Joy Myers, Song of the Plains: A Memoir of Family, Secrets, and Silence
I’m freshening up at the mirror, fixing my prairie wind-swept hair, and getting ready to head out and meet my sisters for dinner.
Riddle: Who gets nervous about seeing their sisters? An adoptee.
We share the same father. It’s oddly fitting that we’re getting together for a meal on Father’s Day. I met these two sisters of mine face-to-face just once before many years ago. At that time, they shared photos and stories with me, and I got to know the man whose genes we three shared. He was not a kind man, and that’s all I’ll say about him now.
My sister Ruth and I have carried on the connection (though she will scold me good-naturedly in a couple of hours for my lack of email communication) and I’m looking forward to seeing her again. I’m also looking forward to seeing my other sister, Miriam, whose face I found mirrored my own in a way that unsettled me all those years ago.
Anyway, I’m nervous and excited and it’s in this state of mind that I set the navigation system in the car as we head out for what turns out to be a five-minute drive to the restaurant Ruth chose for us. I say a silent prayer on the drive over, reaching for the touchstone of my Heavenly Father.
I look around when we enter the restaurant and there’s Ruth with her infectious smile heading our way.
“Hello!” We embrace, she greets Gerry, and leads us to the table where Miriam is waiting.
I quickly realize there was no need for me to be nervous at all. We fall easily into conversation and my heart attaches just a little bit more to Ruth when she confesses: “I was nervous about this.” I guess adoptees aren’t the only ones to get nervous about meeting a sister. Maybe this nervous thing is in our DNA.
And so, we pass the evening comfortably, with much laughter. This meeting is different than the first one was; this time we’re catching up and getting to know one another better. Our father doesn’t come up in conversation once. I’m glad for that.
This morning, I look at pictures Gerry took as we stood outside the restaurant after dinner and replay the easy conversation and laughter we shared. I feel blessed.