Nothing funny or legal or dramatic to see here. Mushy stuff. Move along.
One cool October day in Seoul in 2003 we met Abby. I held her, and was cautioned — sagely — to stop jostling her immediately after she had eaten.
She was tiny.
A couple of days later we carried her from the agency's office back to the hotel. We rode the eerily clean and quiet subway as she snuggled against me in a carrier, under the enigmatic, not-entirely-disaproving, not-entirely-unreasonably-concerned expressions of South Koreans watching us.
Today she's ten. She's fearless, and frequently stubborn, and sweet, and sometimes profane, and surprisingly thoughtful, and entirely dangerous.
I think she can achieve anything she wants. God help us all.
I'm thinking of her quite a lot today, on a terrible day in America, and I'm glad I'm going home to her. I was quite unprepared for how helplessly and powerfully I would love these children.
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