As horrible as I am at math, I like dates and number puzzles/coincidences. And I love that I know others who are like me in this regard. I even know someone who called her friend on May 6th, 1978 at 12:34 to tell him it was 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8.
Today is 3/13/13 — and it’s also the 42nd anniversary of the day I was adopted, a baby 6 months old, and brought into the Wink house & family – on Friday the 13th, even. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall to see it all go down. Every March 13th I call my mom and my dad (neither of whom ever remember the exact date I was adopted) and thank them for not leaving me to the wolves, an orphanage, or what would have surely been an inferior adoptive family. I was always loved and for that I am grateful.
I wish I could thank whomever fostered me for the first 6 months of my life, only to let me go. Was it hard to let a baby go? Was it hard for my birth mother? How could it not have been?
Was it hard for my parents to really love me right away, or did they have to grow to love me…kind of get to know me? They changed my name to Amy, which means beloved. For 6 months I had a first name only. Like Madonna, or Adele. I was that cool. Tina, I think they called me. But I’m glad I’m Amy because I don’t feel like a Tina at all.
Jonah has had a calm couple of days, and I hope there is a similarly good report tonight. Today was the first day I really smelled spring in the air, though it was only 45-50 degrees, and something awakened in my blood. Maybe Boo feels it too, and it makes him happier. He does love to be outside.
Here are some random pictures to share: