Like a weed breaking through the sidewalk, the dream had sprouted and grown without me noticing…until it was too late. Suddenly I realized that I longed for a normal family (does anyone long for an abnormal family?). The roots were deep and strong, imbedded way down in the rocky soil of my heart. It would not be easily pulled out.
I wanted little boys and girls in overalls and sneakers, ball caps and bows, who would catch fireflies, chase lizards, gasp at fireworks, pick flowers and gaze at stars. We would pounce on rain puddles, curl up and read fairy tales, we would dance and sing and blow dandelions. I played the dream again and again in my mind. Christmas mornings in my mind, were filled with organized chaos, chatter, giggling little voices calling to one another. Even the problems were played out in my mind. Little ones struggling to overcome their selfish or impulsive desires while mommy and daddy helped them to grow and reach beyond their abilities. They would be so grateful for our wisdom and skill. Love wrapped us all in warmth and tying us together. This was engraved upon my heart.
In my early fantasies these little ones were tiny versions of my husband and me. Little rosey cheeked, pale skinned, sandy haired people who reflected back our own features, and characteristics.
The first painful yank on that weed came years after it’s germination…we were infertile. Those little clone like people never arrived.
We decided to adopt. The images of those little people began to fade…