When we found out that our two youngest children would be a month apart in age, we were: terrified, certainly; happy, barely; intrigued, mostly. What would that look like? One beefy white boy with a dimple in his cheek, and one wispy Chinese girl with a beautiful face and a painful past, paired to share the same age, the same home, the same parents, and the same last name.
Would they share their hearts?
16 months after their first meeting, it is gloriously clear that no two hearts have ever been more shared. They don't know that they aren't twins. They are never apart, they rarely quarrel, and the ways in which they are different only serve to compliment one another. She is gentle and patient and bent on blessing him, and he is powerfully loyal and eager to make her laugh (I pity the fool who ever tries to make her cry).
In fact, to be perfectly honest, I have had the thought, 'It's a shame they can't get married and spend the rest of their lives together.'
Then this evening, as they exchanged their usual, "You beautiful, Jubi," and "Sanks, Bwave, you handsome," it occurred to me that they will get to spend the rest of their lives together. Their bond is legal and permanent. They will be brother and sister forever.
Oh how that makes me smile.
It's a funny thing, adoption. Much, much more happens than a child simply finding a home.