Two weeks have passed since Debbie and I got to spend the first two days of our life together, together. Nothing has changed. Nothing except, after many years as "only children", related to no one of our generation or preceding, we now have each other. We laugh, we joke, we share our hopes, dreams and fears. Honestly, if I had gone to the Sister Store and placed my order for a sister who understood me and loved me despite my foibles, I couldn't have gotten anyone as nice as she, as perfectly suited for the task as she.
And our lives go on. We talk about planning another trip to get together. And we go on with our daily routines. We text several times each day, sharing the goings-on of our lives. We occasionally talk on the phone. But we're both busy with activities—and life. So texting works the best.
I continue my research on Ancestry. My current objective is to find a cousin or two of our mother's generation or our own. But I'm not finding much success. I'm finding VERY interesting people. Our Sayward ancestors, about whom I was reading yesterday in "North America, Family Histories, 1500-2000," produced, I read, many teachers who migrated westward and were highly regarded in their cities. How cool! I read about many, many babies who died within days or months of birth and I think about the sadness that permeated those families. I read about my male ancestors who were deep sea fishermen by trade and lost their lives trying to provide for their families. My heart aches trying to imagine the anguish of waiting and hoping for someone to come home.
So my research is no different than it was before I found Debbie. The difference now is I have someone with whom to share my amazement. I have someone who cares about me and about my life, as I care about her and hers.
In a word, I am rich. My life is richer for having this person with whom I share genes and traits. With whom I share life.
I am rich.