Contemplating my belly button.

I was emailing a friend that blogging is a strange medium in that it lends itself to one mainly talking about themselves. You can't very well go on about your best friends problems or your husbands stuff because that is their personal stuff, their story. I feel that blogging is sort of a selfish pursuit. I'm thinking this through.

Once a friend asked "Why do you feel you have to present everything as a story?"

Because if I tell the story, I control the version.
Because if I tell the story, I can make you laugh, and I would much rather have you laugh at me than feel sorry for me.
Because if I tell the story, it doesn't hurt as much.
Because if I tell the story, I can get on with it.

Maybe I just need to get on with it.

Homesick.

I have this weird feeling. Well actually I've had this weird feeling on and off for my entire life. I was adopted at birth. Actually I was up for adoption before birth - any takers? Girl for sale! I thank my lucky stars that my parents adopted me. This might sound not very common but I had a great childhood. I was loved, and taken care of and had opportunities and was very very happy. I looked nothing like the rest of my family. My Dad was 6'8", (oh yes really) and was 300 pounds but not fat just BIG. He wore a size 15 triple E shoe. I actually have a picture of me as a toddler sitting in ONE of his slippers. My mom was a foot shorter, and plumpish with black curly hair, cherry red cheeks and a whip smart personality. She literally lit up a room. I guess you could say she was vivacious and funny and so terribly kind. She was a nurse too so was a caregiver to all.

The thing is that almost weekly I would get a very strong feeling. I tried to articulate it to my parents but the best thing I could come up with was I felt homesick. Homesick for what I have no idea. I felt like I was in the wrong place. That I yearned for somewhere else and I had no clue what that place or time was. I would hug one of parents as I felt so lost, so alone. I'm sure it must have been tough for them in retrospect as they had no idea what was going on. It became shorthand. I would just say homesick and jump into one of their laps. After ten or fifteen minutes it would pass.

This went on my entire life. All of a sudden, wham, homesick. Maybe everyone feels this way sometimes but I'm not sure. The thing is I never looked like anybody. Everyone else had their Moms nose or Dads eyes. I looked like, nobody I felt. I had no medical history. I was ground zero. Every single time I see a doctor or specialist I have to say, "adopted at birth, no history". Even though I had this amazing family there was an aloneness, a singular person who was rootless. I didn't even know what nationality I was. History-less. Yes this sounds all very boo-hoo poor me having a wonderful loving family. Yet there was an apart. I was blonde, short, skinny and freckled. I hated my freckles because I was the only one in the family that had them. My Mom would drop little kisses on my cheeks and whisper "brown sugar and cinnamon. That's what you have".

I used to explain this feeling to my husband once we were married and he would say, "you ARE home. This is our home. Everything is well". I knew all was well but the feeling still rolled in. I've read many philosophers and theologians and there have been very specific theories on the homesick theory. Some say you are homesick for God or heaven where you might have been before. Others say you are homesick for a past life (mon dieu!). Now having Charles was an eye opener. He had big eyes like me, dark eyebrows like my husband. He was the very first person who shared my blood that I knew. I am constantly surprised at how much he is like me. (He never shuts up - karma clearly). Then we had Sophie. I never thought she looked like me when she was a baby. But now she is a "big girl" of three. Last night I took her to her first "big girl" swimming lesson. Afterwards as I was drying her off I looked into her little face. Her eyes are large and round and blue grey like mine. She has a smallish mouth like me. She said, "Mama I've got lots of freckles on my face now"! I dappled her cheeks with kisses and whispered, "brown sugar and cinnamon". I finally feel at home. I'm exactly where I belong.