The last homecoming

I’m clearing the hurdle of past lives. It’s a matter of self-preservation and sanctity of health and well-being.

Back to my rhythm of travel, I’m heading out of the country for a long-awaited trip to Southeast Asia in the days ahead. Life is beyond anything I might have imagined a year ago. I never lost the feeling that I would one day become free of the dysfunction of my ex-husband and his child porn addition; what remains is an delightful comparison to the healthy men in the world. As I’m preparing for my trip and organizing my photo storage, I ventured across the last homecoming with my daughter.

The thing that popped into my mind as I erased the images on the drive to make room for new memories was the gathering we had at the house before the event for her friends and their parents. One of the mothers was admiring our family picture in the living room when my daughter came up and in a snide tone quipped, “One big happy family… don’t we all look alike… ” (We are a blended family and 2 of Claire’s brothers are adopted from Brazil; a point of obvious embarrassment for my daughter on many occasions.)

The mother, who’s daughter was standing nearby, replied, “I think families are made up of different people and adopted children make a beautiful family… my kids were adopted.”

With that my daughter, obvious of the egg on her face, shrugged and walked away. She certainly had some maturing to do. Perhaps she’s done it in her new life. By the influencers she’s selected in her life, the chances are not.