My Aunt Jeanne was my dad's older sister. I say was because nobody's seen or heard from her in 15 years. Aunt Jeanne was adopted when she was born, adopted by my grandparents. She was to be the second of 5 children. Jeanne, as is told by my Grandma, was a writer. she loved to write and what little poetry I've seen of hers is beautiful. Her favorite quote was "Life is like a coloring book. You can use whatever colors you like as long as you stay in the lines."
She married and had one child that we know of, his name was Graham and as of this moment I'm confused as to how old he is , so don't ask. He's older that me by a couple of years. or maybe only one.
Grandma and Grandpa have never seen Graham in person and Jeanne soon disappeared after Mom and Dad saw him. We don't know where she is right now, we haven't seen her in fifteen years.
I sometimes wonder that if I were to meet my aunt Jeanne right now if she would have the same personality as me. I wonder if we could have been good friends if I had grown up with her. And I'm almost certain that she could have taught me many things about writing.
I also contemplate how interesting and almost ironic it would be if, one day I were to meet Graham. I've often dreamed about learning about his family, and eventually meeting my aunt Jeanne.
What joy that would bring to me! How I wish to see my aunt Jeanne.
now on a different but not altogether off topic topic. can you imagine being adopted. I know I can't, wouldn't it be hard not knowing your true mother. only knowing that she needed to give you up for your own good? You'd know that your new mother and father loved you, but would it be enough? I've never had to consider these questions with any sincerity concerning my own parents. But just to imagine that , how hard it would be!
Who am I?
Who am I?
really
and truly?
Who am I?
I can't tell you
can you tell me?
Who am I?
inside me there's someone
can you tell me who?
Who am I?
This someone inside me,
she stumbles and falls,
she gets lost inside me and
cannot be found.
She hides her face,
she hides her purpose,
She hides who she is,
and I do not know her.
Can you tell me who she is?
Who Am I?
The answer to this question
is unknown.
I need 30 more words and I don't know where those are going to come from except from a poem.
The real me
Who is the real me?
there’s the me that I see in the mirror
is that the real me?
or the me that I see with my friends
is that the real me?
the me with my family
is that the real me?
The me that I feel when I’m just with me
Is that the real me?
there are so many me’s
which is really me?
The me that I see when I’m writing
that’s the real me.
Graham is going on 18 this year.
ReplyDeleteAdoption. Well, I think that it is a two-sided thing. One one end, some parents do need to give away their children for unavoidable reasons. Sometimes, the parents are selfish, or were not married, but they still had good reasons. They didn't have money, or clothes, or food. There is another side to adoption that my family has observed. The child. Many children are lucky, and end up in a loving, supportive home. But all too often and even rather likely is that the poor children end up in an unprepared, unloving house. It is even worse with foster children, but still the same deal. That is why, when I grow older, I may not have children of my own, or maybe only one. I want to be able to save and care for many left-out children responsibly.
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