Searching for Connection, Identity, and Community as a Honduran-Born Adoptee
I wanted her language, her understanding of Honduras, a family like hers. I wanted things she could never give me.
born I felt my heart wilt at the thought of her thinking less of me. If I explained that I’d been adopted, in her eyes I would no longer be someone like her. Maybe I would no longer be Honduran at all.
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Adoption is one of those forks in the road where many of us try to glimpse through the trees to the other path, the other world.