Most of my life I wondered about my birth parents, my birth mother in particular. For some reason, my attention always focused in that direction. As I got older and understood the whole procreation process, I realized that my birth mother was going to be my ‘in’ to my truth; my very humble beginnings!
Well, now I have the ability to get to know my birth mother and my emotions are mixed. We have spoken on several occasions; logistically we can only do phone calls. I am okay with that. I want to speak to her; but then I don’t. I want to know the truth; yet Linda is unable to share this secret she has held these fifty plus years. There is nothing more right now that I want, expect, and deserve; it is the absolute truth.
I have imagined at least five possible scenarios that would have pushed her to leave a newborn in a car.
I have excused, forgiven, have no ill will to that scared, lonely [in her heart & head], hormone crazed 25 year old with two small children already in her haphazard care.
However, I have less patience and understanding for the 78 year old on the other end of the line that has yet to take responsibility and been honest with herself to say the least. Feigning memory loss just isn’t working.
‘What did you say Linda, you don’t remember? I am sorry, we seem to have a bad connection – I’ll have to hang up now.’