Another Friday, another day without sending the letter, without having finished it. I think I'll change my middle name to "procrastinate." Nah, that's too many syllables, Elizabeth Procrastinate Fairley.
We are going to the beach Sunday for a week. I am thoroughly stoked and anticipatory of even finishing packing tonight, which would be a first time feat for any card carrying Fairley. I even started packing for Sarah, straight out of the dryer. That's pure brilliance.
Enough with the fluff. Let's get down to business. I am scared that Colette won't want to meet me. She mght be happy with her life as is, as I am. She might be not willing to open her heart and mind up to me. Meeting me might be like visiting the cemetary to put down some poinsettas at Christmas on your favorite great aunt's grave.
An ongoing diary of my quest to find my biological relatives, at age 35, and as a single mom.
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