I wish I could…

Let’s put honesty on the line here….who hasn’t yearned to turn back time a good number of years?  And, the reasons why?

Now that I have you thinking, I’ll share a few of the thoughts that run through my head quite often.

I wish I could go back in time to when I was in school and not always be the outsider, longing to be part of one clique or another.  Back to the joy and heartbreak of that first, tender, teen-aged romance when just a glimpse of him made my heart skip and stomach twinge with excitement.  Back to unrealized dreams of success because I didn’t take school seriously.

I wish I could experience the joy of my children as babies and have a chance for a do-over, avoiding so many mistakes as their mother.   Enjoy them more and be less focused on pushing them to grow up.  And away.

I wish I could have learned so much more from those who left this earth, some too soon.  Answers to questions that I neglected to ask while there was still time.   Questions that remained unanswered and apologies that were never shared.  Good-byes that came too late. 

I wish I could learn not to let thoughts wake me in the middle of the night, pounding inside my head like an unwelcome visitor at my front door. 

I wish I could be assured that this world, once I leave it behind, will be a better place for my children, grandchildren and all who follow.  Fear of that unknown is almost paralyzing.

I wish I could enjoy the magnificent beauty of nature that surrounds me but…that takes more time than work allows.  For now, I can only admire it through someone else’s vision.

 

                                                                                                                 

 

And, sometimes I wish I could just hit fast-forward on time to see if in the end it’s all worth it!

 

 

 

Mama’s Losin’ It

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Immediate Connection…

 

 

 

 

 

Searching for my birth-……………

Born…………

In……………hospital and given up for adoption.  

My name at that time was………………….

 Age…… 

Please help me by sharing this!

 

We’ve all seen them.  Photos posted here and there; a smiling face that beams with hope yet masks one more sad story of separation as they hold up a poster with details of the person they long to find. 

In my own years of searching, of always wondering, I could never quite bring myself to take such a giant forward step.   Instead, I silently admired those who made their valiant quests so very public on various social media sites.   Sure, my name and other data was out there in cyberspace, posted on one or two choice reunion sites and I shared my story here on this blog.  Public enough, at least for me.   It seemed, well…safer, protected in some way from judgmental eyes, people with no clue about my circumstances or those who probably didn’t give a damn.  Instead, almost three years ago, I chose to write about that empty spot in my life mostly to acknowledge the person involved and leave an honest record behind for my family.  And, yes, there was my hope the trail of information might someday lead to that slim chance of a reunion.

Oh boy, did it ever!

Two weeks ago, while at work, that remotest of possibilities took place with some help from Facebook’s private messaging.  You know, that little window that pops-up when one of your inner-circle friends on the site shares something not meant for all to see?   Well, there it was, in the “Other” folder and I almost…almost ignored it!  Suddenly, there was my maiden name, photos of a scanned document that I immediately recognized along with some messages.  My dear friend, Traci, was standing nearby and I yelled to her as I sat in disbelief, afraid that it was a mistake.  We both choked back tears as I kept staring at the screen and, in the span of a few seconds, there was an immediate connection as the name in the message window became real again; after 47 years, my birth son found me! 

Amazing, isn’t it?

So, where do we go from here, is what you might be thinking…right?  The answer is, we (Andrew and I) are moving forward.  Talking, messaging and getting to know each other as friends before we re-unite as family.   For me, the opportunity to explain, to find no anger from my birth son for the painful decision I made long ago,  to enjoy the support of my family, well, it’s the best possible gift.  I sit back and watch the comments fly on Facebook, enjoying so many similarities in the conversations that we all share.  Love it or hate it, the social media platform has paved the way for so many people to re-connect and situations like mine are the proof…an absolute positive.

The most important part of all this are the two people who have been, and will always be, Andrew’s parents.  All I did was to introduce him to this universe, they gave him what I was unable to all those years ago; they loved someone else’s child as their own. 

And I thank them!

 

Mama’s Losin’ It
One of the prompts from Mama Kat’s this time around was “something that made you smile this week”….honestly, my “something” has had me smiling, ear-to-ear, since January 31st!   What I’ve shared here isn’t an exercise in prose or poetry, it’s a long-overdue story, written from my heart.  For anyone who is searching for someone, never, ever give up.  Miracles, well, they do happen!

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Where I’m From

 

I am from travels across long and winding roads.  From musty clothes and a tattered suitcase.

 

     From the lonely U.S. Navy sailor on shore leave and the USO singer looking to escape, I am the aftermath.

 

I am from Huguenot, number 327.  Long dark halls where fear hid behind each door. 

 

I am from constant disagreements and hurt from Strollo, artistic talents from Havens and depression…from Smith.

 

I am the sarcastic one of Lloyd Chester and ever-critical like Mary Patricia but not as hateful as Mary Agnes.  I have Marjorie’s fleeting elegance… but not her voice.  I have Lee’s fingers guiding mine as I write …but not the music from his soul.

 

I am from kneeling in Catholic church until my knees were numb and my back ached from staying rigid.   From pain that was better than any punishment from the nuns who patrolled the aisle.

 

I’m from the poor shadows of decaying New Rochelle and the wealth of golden San Francisco.  Beef Stew and Pâté de Foie Gras.

                                                                                        

 

I am from Lilacs, briefly bursting with soft color and fragrance.   From sand that washes into the ocean with every storm. 

 

I’m from hindsight…and wishing, always wishing.

 

I am from dreams of different beginnings; from gathering moments into boxes of forgotten memories labeled… Indifference,  Anger and Why?    

 

Mostly, I am an outsider, safely standing on the edges of my life, wondering.

 

 

Mama’s Losin’ It
 

From Mama Kat’s Writing Prompts For 12.18….Complete the “Where I’m From” poem. 

 

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