Pieces

We received a tremendous gift from Ethiopia.
I can't share how, or what was in the letter -- that belongs to my daughter. But I can tell you that that letter was accompanied by pictures of some of the most beautiful people I'd ever seen: one with eyes like my daughter, one with dimples like my daughter, another with her deep warm skin tone, ample evidence that she will be as tall as her pediatrician guesses she will be. I can tell you, too, that her birthdate was confirmed and we were given a time. We now know who was with her when she was born.
Miss I did not understand the magnitude of this gift, though she enjoyed the pictures and knows I am delighted. She will be raised always with access to this information and those pictures (one of which will be hung on our family picture wall). She won't know what it is like to grow up not knowing whether anyone in this world looks like her, cocks her head just so. She won't have a hard search. She won't wonder if her extended Ethiopian family wants to know her or if they will welcome her (however awkward the language and cultural divides will make that) . . . and for that I am so very grateful.