Reunion

Devereaux discovered us. Her simple note on the Christmas card, "Hi, guys, how are you?" was welcome relief after searching the web over the last eight years to find her, her brother or sister. We used any lead - we found an uncle in New Orleans, made contact, asked for addresses, and there was no follow-up. We thought David was a doctor but could not find his name in California, where he was purported to have gone to medical school, or Richmond, where it was rumored he was practicing. We especially wanted to find these three orphans, who had lost their mother in a freak accident in 1993 and their father to cancer just a few years later. Their home in Louisiana had broken up long before Katrina blew through, and the fragments of their lives had scattered as well. Despite our own four children and their families including four grandchildren, we needed to find these offspring and adopt them. Their mother was a roommate; after she married, three of the four roommates continued to get together with too many small children in very small beach houses or on long weekends where we exchanged germs with one family hosting. When we all lived on the east coast, our gatherings were frequent. When this family moved south and was clouded in illness and superstition of family incest, our conversations and meetings were less frequent. Our kids grew up. The news of the unexpected deaths caught us offguard. We gathered for a brief memorial service - the three remaining roommates including the one without children who had lost touch with our chaotic occasions. Our contacts waned except for a few touchpoints, a wedding announcement, a call when in DC. Then we lost touch altogether. Devereaux's note spawned a gathering with most of the focus on the seven of eight in the next generation who gathered as toddlers, unaware of the history. Two of the roomates made it; five of the nine children gathered. We had an opportunity to embrace these children once again and hope to gather them periodically under the large family umbrella.