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This is something I wrote on my 21st birthday (7 years ago now!) It is the only time I've written extensively and honestly about my birth mother. Everything I said then is still true.



Today, or rather yesterday, October 7th, 2006, was my 21st birthday, which has rather arbitrarily been deemed as the final real coming-of-age birthday here in America, and therefore something of a Big Deal. And I had a wonderful day, and tomorrow also will be full of celebration, and I do eventually want to talk about that, and celebrate the fact that I was celebrated. But for me, this birthday is important in a different way, and for a moment I want to talk about that and be a little ( Collapse )
serious.


Twenty-one is the age that my mother was when she died. Two days is how old I was when she died, properly,...

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