During the throes of adolescents my parents discovered they were pregnant. Their first child, a healthy, beautiful baby boy came into their lives when they too were just children. Given the circumstances they had no choice but to offer him up for adoption. Years later, still together they married they started a family.
I grew up knowing that they had given him up for adoption. He was always someone we celebrated, a birthday never forgotten. I often dreamt about him. I wondered if he looked like me, what kind of man he was growing into and what his family was like. 30 years following his adoption in June 2009 the Ontario adoption laws changed and in December 2009 information was released to my parents regarding their son’s adoption. Suddenly we found ourselves one step closer to knowing him, my brother.
In January 2010 after the exchange of a letter my sister and I sat down with the boy, now man, we had longed to put a face to. In the year and a half since meeting, Greg and I have spent countless hours in our local Tim Horton’s getting to know one another. It was the place that was familiar to both of us. During a time when we experienced heightened self-awareness it was the one place we could feel like ourselves. It was our common ground. It was a place to grab a coffee and sit and talk for hours discovering similarities and difference between us. On nicer days we’d take our order to go, park our cars in the parking lot and take a walk along the waterfront. It was during these moments talking over a cup of Tim Horton’s coffee that we became family.