The word split my heart right open through the small ear piece of my phone while driving. My comfortable world of whiteness shattered around me, and the high pitched ringing wouldn’t stop. The skin on my knuckles turned transparent as I gripped the steering wheel and stared ahead at a stop sign, fiery hot anger bursting at my seams.
Someone who loves me and my son was recapping a story about a family-friend’s response to us bringing our son home through adoption. The word apparently fell out of his mouth like a joke, like it was no big deal, but it burrowed itself deeply into my heart, creating a wound that may never go away.