First Snow

Mostly, we're brainless at the end of the day, these days. My back feels wrenched, my eyes cried out and my thoughts, what there are of them, tend to be something like ".....must....watch....tv....must....snack.....then....sleep...."
But I briefly came alive again after nine p.m. the other night, when we were sitting on the couch and Anette said she doesn't want to call V. our foster daughter. She said people, both strangers and friends, had a totally different reaction when they met Adinah for the first time. When they met our adopted daughter, they said, "How great, how beautiful!" But when people meet our foster daughter, they say, "Oh poor thing."
I've never had any intention of introducing V. as "our foster daughter." She's our daughter, no matter how the state defines our relationship. But I was struck by my wife's observation, and I think I understand it.
Adinah's biological father made the choice--as soul-erasing as it must have been--to leave her at the orphanage. V.'s biological mother didn't make a choice--at least not a conscious one--but V. was taken away from her by city authorities. The pain of that--of losing your child, against your will--will always in that young woman. And I think it's probably inscribed in V. as well. I think it's something we're all going to have to deal with, over and over.
That said, there's no way I'm going to write a script for V. before I've even gotten to know her. She's gonna be who she is.