The other day I was at the children’s museum with the boys and I found myself doing something that I often wonder if people do when they see us. My kids were playing in the rocks digging up dinosaur bones when a white couple walked up with a biracial little boy. Both of adults seemed to act like his parents. They were both very affectionate with him. I found myself wondering. How did this child become their son? Then I wondered if he was their son. Then I wondered if he was adopted. What if he was just their nephew. What if her first husband died.
You see I didn’t think it was odd that he was black and they were white, I was simply curious as to the story. I find those things intriguing. Although it is none of my business how any child joins a family, I love to hear the stories. I love to see “different” looking families,because I guess it reminds me of ours.
Funny thing is that I never think of our family as “different”. I often forget that someone in our family doesn’t “fit”. You see I think we all fit just perfectly. I often forget that Deacon is black. Not that I don’t see his color, because I value his color and we are proud of his color. We are not color blind. I guess we just forget that when we go out people might wonder about how we all got together.