Last week a friend from my past reached out to me, wanting to meet up for dinner. I had not seen Abby (not her real name) for at least five years, although we have loosely kept in touch. She was in DC from the Atlanta area for work-related travel and wanted to meet during her short time here.
Abby and I know each other from our days living in Orlando, Florida—a period of my life I often describe as being the weirdest, most frightening time of my adulthood years. Abby was one of several girl friends who was a transplant to the city just as I was, and I relied on her and a few others to help me reconnect with the normal world when things got too weird down in O-Town, a strange city that is so unlike the sterile fairy-tale fantasy of Disney World.
Anyway, we met up for dinner at Fireworks Pizza in the Clarendon neighborhood of Arlington, Virginia, not too far from where she was staying. It was really good to see her. She looked exactly the same as I remembered—she hadn’t changed a bit—still the stunning, younger version of Cameron Diaz I remembered her to be. So little had changed since we last met and yet our lives had completely transformed from our Orlando days. It was great to see that it was relatively easy picking up from where we left off nearly five years ago in a city neither of us no longer live in.
Abby told me how she had been following me and my posts about adoption, as well as my recent trip to Korea, and she was fascinated with the experiences I have had, the things I have learned and the thoughts I have shared online. I was surprised to hear this as she has not reacted online to my writings and posts, but it was wonderful to hear that she has been reading my contributions, and she admitted many of the stories I have shared were relatable to her own life, which is something I did not expect to hear. Continue reading “The Social Politics of Abandonment and Thoughts on Genetic Migration”