Dear Collette,
I hope you are sitting down because this is going to be a shock to you. Well I guess that remains to be seen. You may have been waiting a long time for this moment. Quick! Get out your camera. It’s in the junk drawer. C’mon, I know you have one. Everyone does.
I was born on April 12, 1976 in Charlotte, I recently learned. I did not know my birthplace until last August when I found out that you were my birth mother. Since I found out, as you can probably imagine, I have been mulling over how to approach this situation.
Let me start by saying this: I have longed to know you all of my life, to know your people, who were originally my people too. I've longed to know my birth father and his people, too- not as much as you though if that's any consolation. I learned in my search that you did not tell my birth father about me. I would still like to know who he is. I sincerely hope you can remember who he is. You are getting old after all. (Sad attempt to make light of this. Humor has always been my friend.)
I understand that request may be very hard for you to digest if you really never told him about me. I'm sorry that it might be very painful for you to even think about me, and even reliving that time in your life altogether might be excruciating. I can only imagine. I have a daughter, so I can somewhat relate. That means you are a grandmother. Sorry to inform you, if you were living life thinking you were still in your prime. I heard that you have a full head of gray hair which I guess is something I have to look forward too as well. That stinks, but it’s forgivable.
I want you to know that I don't blame you for what you did. I have an idea of what it was like for you being in college at the time of your pregnancy, and having two older siblings who both graduated college. One would derive that there might be some lofty expectations of you being the youngest to come out on top like the others. But I also recall in my notes from the adoption agency that your parents wanted you to marry the birth father and keep me. Either way, I imagine it was no easy feat for you to give me up, and to go all these years wondering what happened to me. I know who I am, and so I imagine you can't be that different. I feel things pretty deeply, as I imagine you do as well.
I would like to know more about my heritage, my lineage, my health information, but most importantly- ABOUT YOU. I have gone my whole life wondering who I am, where I came from, what it would be like to know other people who look like me, who act like me, who are like me. Two words: missing link. Don't get me wrong. I have had a great family, a great upbringing- maybe it was rocky at times, but who goes through life without strife? Show me that person, so I can hug her- maybe she's Irish.
I am writing you today to see if you would be interested in meeting me. I don't want anything from you. I know you have a life already. I do too! But I thought you might be curious to know about me. After all it's been almost 36 years. I'm holding onto 30 though. Shhhh. I live in Charlotte, which is only a few hours’ drive from Jacksonville.
I know I have relatives out there. I sent a facebook message to your sister. So I imagine you might know that I was looking for you. She never responded. I assume she looked at my birthday and something might have clicked. Who knows? Assuming is bad. I do it too much. But when you have as little to go on as I have had all these years, your imagination becomes quite vivid and relentless on occasion.
I'd like to leave you wanting to know more about me. So, I don't want to tell you too much. It's like sleeping with a guy on the first date. He got what he wanted and he might not come back. I've never done that btw. I'm a good girl. Well that might be a fib, but I am a good girl anyhow. Now you're thinking, wow, this girl is crazy and a whore. You'll never want to meet me now. Maybe I should rethink this letter. Nah. This is me. I am who I am, and you are who you are, and I owe it all to GOD.
He's my real mom and dad. Knowing that has made it easier for me. And in all honesty, I have grown up very happy, very stable (that could be debated) I was a debater in high school. Nothing screams dork more than that. I was also a dancer for 15 years, until I quit because I thought drinking beer was more fun. Boy was I stupid. I might not have this beer belly now, had I thought that one through. I might have your genes to thank for that too. Eh. That’s what Weight Watchers is for.
I am going to record myself dropping this letter in the mail. I truly hope that you want to meet me too. You might realize that you have needed me all these years, and it's never too late to start over. I do it every day.
Please call me or write me back. You can find my number in most bathroom stalls in Charlotte bars on Central Avenue. Joking of course.
Love,
Brooke
I hope you are sitting down because this is going to be a shock to you. Well I guess that remains to be seen. You may have been waiting a long time for this moment. Quick! Get out your camera. It’s in the junk drawer. C’mon, I know you have one. Everyone does.
I was born on April 12, 1976 in Charlotte, I recently learned. I did not know my birthplace until last August when I found out that you were my birth mother. Since I found out, as you can probably imagine, I have been mulling over how to approach this situation.
Let me start by saying this: I have longed to know you all of my life, to know your people, who were originally my people too. I've longed to know my birth father and his people, too- not as much as you though if that's any consolation. I learned in my search that you did not tell my birth father about me. I would still like to know who he is. I sincerely hope you can remember who he is. You are getting old after all. (Sad attempt to make light of this. Humor has always been my friend.)
I understand that request may be very hard for you to digest if you really never told him about me. I'm sorry that it might be very painful for you to even think about me, and even reliving that time in your life altogether might be excruciating. I can only imagine. I have a daughter, so I can somewhat relate. That means you are a grandmother. Sorry to inform you, if you were living life thinking you were still in your prime. I heard that you have a full head of gray hair which I guess is something I have to look forward too as well. That stinks, but it’s forgivable.
I want you to know that I don't blame you for what you did. I have an idea of what it was like for you being in college at the time of your pregnancy, and having two older siblings who both graduated college. One would derive that there might be some lofty expectations of you being the youngest to come out on top like the others. But I also recall in my notes from the adoption agency that your parents wanted you to marry the birth father and keep me. Either way, I imagine it was no easy feat for you to give me up, and to go all these years wondering what happened to me. I know who I am, and so I imagine you can't be that different. I feel things pretty deeply, as I imagine you do as well.
I would like to know more about my heritage, my lineage, my health information, but most importantly- ABOUT YOU. I have gone my whole life wondering who I am, where I came from, what it would be like to know other people who look like me, who act like me, who are like me. Two words: missing link. Don't get me wrong. I have had a great family, a great upbringing- maybe it was rocky at times, but who goes through life without strife? Show me that person, so I can hug her- maybe she's Irish.
I am writing you today to see if you would be interested in meeting me. I don't want anything from you. I know you have a life already. I do too! But I thought you might be curious to know about me. After all it's been almost 36 years. I'm holding onto 30 though. Shhhh. I live in Charlotte, which is only a few hours’ drive from Jacksonville.
I know I have relatives out there. I sent a facebook message to your sister. So I imagine you might know that I was looking for you. She never responded. I assume she looked at my birthday and something might have clicked. Who knows? Assuming is bad. I do it too much. But when you have as little to go on as I have had all these years, your imagination becomes quite vivid and relentless on occasion.
I'd like to leave you wanting to know more about me. So, I don't want to tell you too much. It's like sleeping with a guy on the first date. He got what he wanted and he might not come back. I've never done that btw. I'm a good girl. Well that might be a fib, but I am a good girl anyhow. Now you're thinking, wow, this girl is crazy and a whore. You'll never want to meet me now. Maybe I should rethink this letter. Nah. This is me. I am who I am, and you are who you are, and I owe it all to GOD.
He's my real mom and dad. Knowing that has made it easier for me. And in all honesty, I have grown up very happy, very stable (that could be debated) I was a debater in high school. Nothing screams dork more than that. I was also a dancer for 15 years, until I quit because I thought drinking beer was more fun. Boy was I stupid. I might not have this beer belly now, had I thought that one through. I might have your genes to thank for that too. Eh. That’s what Weight Watchers is for.
I am going to record myself dropping this letter in the mail. I truly hope that you want to meet me too. You might realize that you have needed me all these years, and it's never too late to start over. I do it every day.
Please call me or write me back. You can find my number in most bathroom stalls in Charlotte bars on Central Avenue. Joking of course.
Love,
Brooke
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