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Show Shared Son 2 When we arrived at the building where we were to meet Wayne, we were first ushered into an office to complete some paper work formalities and then our foster son was introduced to us. At least his slim body and his long black hair were introduced. His hair was shoulder length in back and covered his eyes in front. This, coupled with the fact that he kept his head down, prevented us from getting a good look at him. Before we could say a word, he walked along in front of each family member pumping our hands briefly and mechanically. This chore completed, he stood still, head down, awaiting our response. We all made an effort to be relaxed and friendly. Soon boy and suitcase were loaded into the back of our station wagon headed for whatever the next eight to ten years might bring. Doug and I exchanged tentative smiles hoping for reassurance. On the way home we stopped at a bike shop to purchase a new red banana seat for the sting-ray two-wheeler we had rebuilt for Wayne. The bicycle proved a refuge that first day. Once we arrived home, we sensed that this was a homesick day for Wayne, and that he was fighting back tears. The only way he seemed able to cope was to jump on that bike and ride up and down, up and down the street. He put miles on that bicycle on Day One. At mealtime we tried to make him comfortable by asking about his favorite foods. He didn't respond. Afterward he went to sit on the front porch and I followed him on the pretext of working on the flowers which were growing adjacent to the porch. It was too early in our relationship for him to accept my offer of physical solace, but when I saw that he was crying softly I felt that I had to do something to ease his hurt. I realized that we had only |