Sitting in the same room every day that is filled with people and still feeling like I’m all alone. Many thoughts bounce around in my head like a pinball machine on high score mode. Yet those thoughts feel like they can not be shared with anyone. Not in this room. Will not, can not be shared with another English-speaking soul! To think English is the only language I speak fluently. The people in my life at the moment are venomous creatures chewing on every piece of personal information they can receive. When this information can and will be distributed to the multitudes, then it will be regurgitate at the worst possible time in my life.
After having many emotional knife blades stabbing my brains grey matter. To the point that it spills through my eye sockets and dribbles from my ears. I hit that subliminal wall that is constructed in every living persons conscience. After many months of keeping my problem solving thoughts to myself. I have decided to make my thoughts known to whomever feels the need to read about the mind numbing, disturbing thoughts that creep through my mind. again if you make it to the end of my story please comment of experiences, truths or facts. I really don’t want to be the only person living a lie.
While in the planning stages of my dream fairytale wedding. I learned from the Wiseman, that was picked to officiate that special moment in our lives, that the man I knew as my father was not the sperm donor I thought he was. Don’t get me wrong. Every person on the face of the earth has horror stories of their childhood. My childhood had its moment but for the most part it was I had a happy one.
Spending summer months with my fathers parents was always the best memories. Cousins, riding bikes, playing with dolls, eating junk food while sharing secrets of the days back then. Everyday was jammed packed with everyday child experiences that shaped out some of the person I am today. The words the wise man spoke as he named who the real sperm donor was. At the time did not shatter my world. I grew up with this man in my life ages 3 to 16. There where more shadows in those times but again many smiles made a day more livable.
I grew up on a farm in a little town that many people drive by everyday. When they blinked, they would miss it. Alone and lonely I was the female surrounded by rough and tough little boys. We where always getting into unmeasurable amounts of trouble. So I was constantly being punished for my unfeminine behavior. Not allowed to leave the yard for extended periods of time. So, I would talk and play with my animal friends. Soon I developed chores such as feeding or cleaning up after those animals. Even learned how to milk the cows. Many long days filled with hard work. When I got older and could count well enough, I went with my step father to sell vegetables on the road side. Sometimes I received tips from people shocked to see a kid of my age by the road selling food when I could have been home having fun.
My mother told me many times over that she left my father because he wouldn’t stop cheating on her. He would say mean things about or to her and hurt her feelings. She left my stepfather because he didn’t hold to a real job. The farm was falling apart because he gambled too much. Truth we did lose a lot of our live stock because of his poor gambling techniques. * Reality check; mom lost a lot of weight and she ran into an old flame. A so-called soul mate. At that time I was starting to move on my way at the tender age of 16. Babysitting kept me away from the house for many days at a time. Money in my pocket helped me to afford staying away for even more time.
After setting the Wiseman straight about my parental background by producing to him the birth certificate that my father signed all those many years ago. I had the perfect romantic, traditional, fantasy wedding a fly by her pants kinda girl could have. Time moved along then came the birthday I share every year with my son. A week later The marriage of my youngest stepson came then the birthday of my new to me granddaughter. As the birthday of my new husband approached I sweated out what I could get a man who lives the life he always wanted. A DNA test.?.
Cuddled up on the couch watching TV we saw a commercial about a young woman traveling the word to experience where her DNA is from. My husband in jest made a quizzical statement about finding out he was related to someone famous and I figured out loud I’d be related to a rock! Over the next few days of surfing the internet the same ad appeared many times over. DNA testing find out who you really are. Boom, I was sucked in. While signing up on line the DNA site tells me order 2 and get a nice discount. Okay save money and order 2!
The waiting had begun for the test to arrive in the mail. Daydreaming starts to develop on a daily basis. What if I’m related to someone famous or a famous serial killer? Then the memories flood back of a tearful preteen ripping through her stepfather’s office looking for adoption papers. I have nothing in common with my family. I don’t look like anyone in my family. I really don’t get along with anyone in my family. The lost feelings of being unloved and unwanted thrown away in my early twenties. Homeless and living out of my car until I found a young man who introduced me to some of his family. Some of them lost and alone just like me.
This man’s Uncle had property with chicken coops on it. The coops where remodeled on the inside for human living. I don’t remember how many where there. I do remember we all looked out for each other. The ones with cars gave rides to the ones that didn’t have a car. The ones that worked purchased food for the group. Some cleaned while others kept maintenance on the small houses. We all where the forgotten kids but we all worked together to be somebody at least in our circle. As far as I know we all succeeded in life thanks to an elderly man who believed in giveing kids a hand up and not a hard time.
Many years passed with me wondering who am I or what about me is so repulsive especially to my family. Aunts treating me like a Demon seed offering help only if I go to church. Actually there was a lot of people who questioned my beliefs in God. With God in my life I would not have ended up needing help. Without God I would not have traveled up and down those crazy roads of life while staying on my feet. The day has come and I’m closer to proving I belong not only in this world but I belong in this family. The test arrived in the mail. My husband and I sat at the kitchen counter going over the directions together to make sure we did it right.
Step 1: Spit in the bottle up to the dotted line.
Step 2: Clasp on the special bottle cap.
Step 3: Place bar code on the bottle
Step 4: Mail back to the lab.
It felt like we where spitting for hours but we got the job done. One step closer to figuring this whole family thing out.
My father is Native American and Dutch. My mother is Native American, Dutch, Spanish and Afro-American. I grew up learning the Native American ways and wondered if my genetics gave me the care free I will survive anything attitude. The smell of the world after a soft rain or the fresh smell of dirt in spring inspire me. I can make friends with almost all animals and have a soft spot in my heart for them before most humans. Its undeniable that is what I am. Then a little voice in the back of my head told me to remember my stepfather is Greek and unknown. My step fathers mother met his father while he was visiting in the mountains of Virginia or so the story was told. He had just got off the boat from Greece and brought her to New Jersey to get married and live their life together. He passed away a long time before she did. Now you will soon see whats been weighing so hard on my mind. I like dancing in the wind with no shoes on my feet. I can’t sit in one place to long, forever the gypsy in me won’t be still. What if my mother let some long ago secret slip out of her mouth and in to the ear of a Wiseman. At the time of my wedding it was assumed she was trying to upset me. Could she really have been cleaning out old bones in the closet of her subconscious? I always had many questions as to why things happened the way they did so long ago. Those in the know have been silent to long. the clock ticks loudly when it comes to the truth.
Waiting took forever and in time all worries where put to the side. Jokes forgotten about being related to royalty vs the city pauper. Life moved on as it always does, swiftly. As I walk trying to get my exercise steps in. I look over across the street to the house that once belonged to my grandparents and my heart breaks. The memories of days gone by with hugs, laughter and tears. That long ago where diluted by the winds of Father Time. The words of my grandparents echo in my ears and still haunt my dreams. Grandma’s smiling face as she cooks dinner while listening to her soap operas. Grand pop a sleep in the recliner before dinner. I no longer feel them within me.
The test results finally come in and sure enough my husband is related to royalty. Unfortunately the king was beheaded many years ago. Me on the other hand have no DNA markers for Native American,Dutch or Spanish. Who am I?
My highest DNA marker goes to India?