Older

I will never have another moment in my life quite like the one when Shi Hui shot out of the waiting room looked at me, shouted “Papa!” and threw herself into my arms.

We had sent pictures of our family that were put into a scrapbook ages ago (or so it seems), and it clearly had become a cherished object to our daughter to be. After the initial exuberance, which only devolved into secondary exuberance, she showed us our photos, pointing at them that at each of us in turn. “Papa!” “Mama!” “Jei Jei!” She knew us well.

And now a word on the joy of adopting an older child. He or she will know you in a way that a younger child will not. Shi Hui claimed us when she bounded out to greet us. Not only was she ours, we were very much hers, and she left no doubt about it.

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drbbrennan

I am a writer and a teacher. I have lived in Philadelphia, Binghamton, Pittsburgh, Baltimore, Norfolk, and Northern Virginia. I have sailed on the ocean and flown over the North Pole. I write fiction, poetry, and nonfiction.

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