by Mariana Quintanar
They spend two weeks bonding,
In a small car crossing the country.
A son who has different opinions than his father.
The Irish man he calls father wanting the best for him.
They don’t always see eye to eye.
But will always be family,
Not by blood but by love
He looks forward to the trip
They travel to Portland every year
As a family,
A journey of 977 miles
In Portland, awaits more family with open arms.
He spends time them,
The trip is full of joy and love,
Appreciating they are together.
Having a great time,
Time flies and soon they say ‘Goodbye, until next year.’
Who never knew blood relatives but has a family.