Photographs

My brother left last night. It was another wonderful visit that I wish I could put into a jar, close the lid tightly and open it when I am missing my family, to take in the aroma of perfection and pure happiness.

He brought some of his photo albums, with a lot of pictures of my mom when she was younger. I stare at those pictures in which she is holding him, or playing with him and she looked so incredibly happy. In ever picture she was smiling. I try to imagine myself in those pictures, would she be as happy? More happy? Less happy? Many of these pictures included my father. My mother, my brother and my father, just a few years after I was born and adopted. He looked like he was in love with her and her with him. What went wrong?

My favorite picture of all was a picture taken at the park; a 1 year old Kieran sliding down the slide with our father guiding him down and our mother waiting at the bottom to “catch” him.
It makes me think about how others in their lives somehow convinced them that they wouldn’t be good parents for me, something apparently she still believes, but every picture I see, at my mom’s house and this weekend with Kieran paints a different story. My mom’s house was filled with joy. It sounds corny, but it was really a beautiful place and the pictures on the walls, the kids’ awards hung in frames, the pool in the back yard, the drawings and report cards displayed on the refrigerator……. They are loved, they are taken care of, they are cherished…….all given by the same mother who is convinced she couldn’t raise me.

Of course when I was planning my trip to visit my first family, I went to my adoptive parents and asked for pictures. I went through boxes upon boxes, only to find very, very few photographs. There were none of me at the park, none in the pool on my father’s back, none like the photographs in my first family’s albums. Something else was striking – there were no pictures in which I looked truly happy. No belly laughing pictures like my siblings have. No pictures of the family together; just a few poor quality pictures of me alone. I found myself looking at little Nicole and wondering what I was feeling back then but to no avail; I have very few memories of my early childhood. Based upon pictures and my memories, one would think I didn’t even exist until high school.

Anyway, on another note, I took my brother everywhere. I took him to the hospital and he handed out the build a bears with me. I took him to meet all of my friends and my boyfriend. I took him to my childhood home and he met my adoptive parents. They were welcoming to him. My adoptive mom kept staring at him and asking him a million questions. Somehow we made it through that experience and on Saturday we went to the beach. We had a few beers (which is a huge no-no for me, but it was fun!) and we stayed there talking throughout the entire night. I have never been comfortable enough with one person to spend that much time together before now. It was truly amazing.

He left last night as I walked him to his car. He hugged me while picking me up and swinging me around and we both got teary eyed. After he left I just sat down on my porch and couldn’t believe that all of this is happening to me. I cannot believe how much my life has changed in such a short period. When I came back in, I called my mom and told her that I loved her.