I never really paid close attention to MLK day…

My family was as white as they come until recently.  We just added to our family and he is African American or black, both adjectives apparently acceptable.  I know this because I have asked other African Americans, the adjective that I prefer.  Today has taken on an entirely different meaning to our family.  Today I actually paid attention to what happened, what it meant to be African American in our country now and in the past.  I mean don’t misunderstand me, I have always been aware.  I know history.  I fancy myself open minded and liberal and non-judgmental, but when you have a child that will understand something better then you ever, ever will, well, you sit up and you listen.  You listen with all your heart and when you realize the intensity of this fact, you pray to God that you never let him down.  You know that you have a huge responsibility to him and it involves conversations and experiences that are most unpredictable. I find it scary and exciting, a gift and an honor.

It has been only a few months since we were blessed with his presence.  I stare at his tiny, precious hand wrapped around my finger and I forget that he and I look differently and then I remember as I stare and I wonder what this will mean and then he looks deep into my eyes, his beautiful deep brown eyes just stare right into my blue ones.  I wonder if he knows that I am abnormally white. I wonder if it will be a joke one day for him…will that be a bad thing.  I suddenly don’t care as he locks in on me and gives me his grin, this grin that I know will break hearts.  I wonder what color those hearts will be and I hope it won’t matter…after all inside everyone looks the same.

E