Chapter 6 - My mother Marian
Marian Monroe raised me.
Whatever came next, that sentence remained true.
She worked as a respiratory therapist for thirty-one years.
Laughed too loudly.
Burned pancakes.
Hated driving in snow.
Kept emergency cash inside an empty flour container despite the fact that every burglar in America probably knew that trick.
She never married.
She told me my biological mother was her younger cousin, Laura, who became pregnant at seventeen and disappeared from family contact shortly after giving birth.
According to Marian:
Laura asked her to raise me.
There had been no formal adoption because Laura vanished before paperwork was completed.
Marian later became my legal guardian through court.
I knew pieces of this.
At seventeen I asked to see the guardianship file.
Marian cried.
Then said:
“Some families begin badly and still become good.”
I backed off.
After her death, I found no photograph of Laura.
No letters.
No birth announcement.
My delayed birth certificate listed:
Mother: Laura Monroe.
Father: Unknown.
Place of birth: Worcester County.
Attending physician: none.
Filed when I was fourteen months old.
At the time I had accepted Marian’s explanation:
Home birth.
Family chaos.
Now every blank space looked intentional.
I called Naomi.
“I think my whole childhood may be paperwork somebody invented.”
She said:
“DNA first.”
Correct.
Not:
Your mother kidnapped you.
Not:
May you like
Victoria is definitely right.
DNA.
