I got an unexpected package today. The postal clerk called me to say that it was urgent and I had to sign for it and she didn’t want to wait until Monday so maybe I could pick it up right way because she was closing for the day.
So Sol is using my car (hers needs a tire) and Ed drove me down to the tiny mall, about a 3 minute drive, and I covered up because I didn’t have my outside face on. The return address and name were not familiar. It was large thick package. What is it what is it, Ed demanded. And I said, I am not about to open this in the car, drive home please.
I opened it and the first paragraph exploded in my brain: This is what it said.
*** I hadn’t imagined writing this letter, and I don’t suppose you would expect to receive it after all these years. Or maybe you sensed this day would come. Could it have something to do with the convergence of Saturn and Jupiter? Or this godforsaken plague? The long and short of it is that I am the daughter you gave up for adoption in 1951. ***
I haven’t yet read everything in the package, but she included contact information and I phoned and we talked for about an hour. I wish she could come visit right away – but will have to be patient as we navigate the risks of the virus. We struck a familiar chord and we are a lot alike in thinking and interests. This is amazing. I am overwhelmed. More as time wears on.
Did I mention she’s a cat person?
I phoned my closest friends and they are as excited and happy for me as I am. One said “did you win the lottery?” and I said, “better.” Her name is Laura.