Life is not measured by the breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away.

Unknown

In August of 2001, my son and I first began to communicate with each other. He had found me through a mediator on July 31, 2001. Our first contact was days after the agency had received all the paperwork to allow them to provide identifying information to both of us. After our initial talk on the telephone (2 hours long), we began emailing and talking on the phone often.

Within a couple of months, I gingerly asked about a meeting in person. I went into reunion cold, with no preparation ahead of time. Had I known the benefits of going slower, I might not have suggested that we meet as quickly as we did. For us it worked out though and I was pleased that he consented to our meeting early on. I was terribly eager to see him.

We made plans for me to fly to Seattle, where my son lives, for our first meeting after reunion. The agency that handled my son's adoption was also located in Seattle. I had left the Northwest years after his birth and relinquishment. With all the sad, painful memories that I had of the area, I had never intended to return.

Now, I was finally returning to Seattle for one of the most anticipated events of my life. Whenever I heard “Seattle” over the past 32 years, I winced inwardingly and associated the city with the darkest time of my life. That association was about to change forever.

We had been emailing and talking on the telephone for several months at the time of my trip, so, we had learned a great deal about each other during that time. Though we had been apart for nearly 32 years, we were still mother and son, I did not feel as if I would be going to meet a stranger. Seattle - here I come!

To be Continued...................................