For years, adoption was our goal. Every form signed was another step through the bureaucratic labyrinth, until we stepped out into open air and he was ours.
“Michael is seeing the school psychologist again today,” I told my friend Brent over coffee. “He still starts fights, and fires.”
“It’s hard being a teenager.”
“Did we make a mistake adopting older? Maybe we should’ve gotten a baby.”
“Don’t tell Michael that.”
“I just feel like we’re back in the maze. I don’t know how to get out this time.”
Brent shrugged. “That’s parenthood. You don’t get out, you just go through.”