I came back from San Francisco three months before the 2005 Federal Flood. A couple of years later, I watched a documentary called “Trouble the Water” and in it, a fairly large Black man is wading through flood water up to his chin carrying an elderly woman up high over his head to safety. He said, “I always wondered why I was here. What God wanted from me. And now I know.” I can barely say that without crying. I had that same divine clarity the day I met my son. I was 50 years old and all of the life I had lived was held together with vague meaning until it crystalized in his eyes. I knew in an instant that I was born to be Tin’s mother.
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