Saturday, June 28, 2008

Never Give Up

We're in the car, Spencer and I. Ahead of us is a long stretch of hot asphalt leading to Target and he's got fifty bucks burning a hole in his pocket.

"What's going on Mom? You're looking kind of sad, come on, tell me, I know when you are sad."

Tears well in my eyes but I shake my head. "Everything's fine, Buddy," I say.

"Is it Rog? Did he upset you?"

"No, no," I say.

"Is it that searching for your birth mother thing?" he says, "how's that going?"

I look over at my boy, dark hair, dark eyes, wide in the chest now--eleven going on forty. Outside is a strip mall with Baja Mexican, Old Navy and Home Depot.

"It's not going so well," I say, "I got a letter from the state registry in Nevada and no one in my family is looking for me. I don't know, it just bother's me. It makes me sad."

I flick the tears away and reach over to his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Spencer's a kid, I just want him to be a kid and not have to worry about yet another aspect of my past. Yet, without my mother and ancestory to connect to, I've learned he's dealing with my past anyway. Being relinquished at birth has really done a number on me. Mother's aren't supposed to leave babies. It's like the sun up in the morning and down at night. It's primal. But mine left, just like millions of other mothers, and now I'm trying to make my way home only it's tough. I can't find her and I get sad.

Spencer is quiet for a long time, just looking out the windshield and the funny thing is, the stretch of road we're on reminds me a lot of the long roads in Nevada. The heat of the day is Nevada heat too.

I make a left into the Target parking lot but instead of being ready to launch from the car so he can gather up the desired Lego machine, he shifts in his seat.

"You know I have a teacher who tells me to never give up," he says. "Don't give up, Mom, be sad if you have to, but when you're done being sad, keep looking."

I park the car and turn off the ignition. Something so subtle passes between us, it's like wind or a memory. After all, it's his family too.

"Okay," I agree, "I'll keep looking."

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