Two Different Mothers,Too Different Answers By Roberta Holland In my story there is a Yes Mom and a No Mom. Yes Mom taught me yes when I was six weeks old, saying yes to me after another mom had said no. It was a big yes, so big she didn’t even have to speak the words, but I knew in my bones that because of her first yes, I was not allowed
what the doorways remember By Erica Livingston LISTEN TO THE AUTHOR READING: Threshold One: Birth. A goodbye spoken before I had a voice.A goodbye screamed as a birthcry while I stalled in her canal.A goodbye whispered before my lungs even learned the shape
She’s in My Pocket By Ruby Barnett LISTEN TO THE AUTHOR READING: The instructor, while walking around the room, announces loudly, “An audible sigh is a signal to the nervous system that all is well.” The person next to me sighs out loud. Then the woman in front, one on the other side of the room, the whole back row. Multiple audible sighs. I don’t even try. My
The Climb By Anna Bryant I’ve been conditioned to believe that up is always betterAlways give your upmost Anna, laziness is badAlways stay upbeat Anna, complaining is badAlways uplift others Anna, negativity is bad Up, up, upHigher and higher I climbed up the mountain of perfectionThe praise and pats on the back were no match for the lack of oxygen on the summitNo one told me that this hike towards excellence would be so difficultThat getting
A Blessing for My Inner Child By Jennifer G. Hiltebeitel LISTEN TO THE AUTHOR READING: Blessed are you little one,whose first mother disappeared without saying goodbye.You didn’t yet understandthat her leaving was all about her, and not about you. Blessed are you,sweet redheaded childwhose birth fathertook a walk after dinnerand never came back.His choice to abandon youmeant growing up without an answer to the inquiry of so many strangers.“Where did you get your lovely red hair?”they would ask,and you would wonder for years,“Where did I come
When Kinship Sings By Erica Curry Van Ee LISTEN TO THE AUTHOR READING: I traveled to Estonia in July 2025, expecting Estonia’s Song and Dance Celebration to be the highlight of my two-week journey back to my ancestral homeland. Since 1869, this global gathering has taken place every five years, long before Estonia had independence or political power. In those early years, singing publicly in Estonia became a way to stay connected through Nazi and Soviet occupations. These songs carried forbidden
Puppy By Rebecca Cohen Before there were words, there was Puppy. Before memory, Puppy. My first word: “Puppy.” Puppy: a gift from Grandma at our first meeting, a fuzzy stuffed friend half my infant size. White and brown with soft floppy ears, little red tongue, and sleepy eyes. I’d lost my first and second families by then: mother, foster. I was absorbed into my new family: Mom, Dad, Puppy. We’d been a family for a year when I was eclipsed by
These Words By Audrey B These words are being created, Birthed from the 4th floor of a hotel, in a place I don’t live, a state whereI am a visitor, at a time, unfamiliar. I have already told you too much: How loss means foundDay is Night how coming together requires falling apart document to diary understood cracking all codes leading to adoption again I have said more than is necessary, even tolerated Family means Obliterated Of course we can! of course we do…love biology, we never knew as church bells ring sun has set, city
Losing the Simulacra By Mila X Slipping into my new skin, I got many things. A roof. Food. Family? Family trips. Nannies who came and went. Strength. Schooling. Languages. New names. I shed many things, too. Old names. Ancestral knowledge. Knowledge of the family that was. Losing the soft sound of her voice, I came to recognise the new one. Cloyingly sweet, yet on edge. Often laced with acrid anger. Occasionally exploding, other times a stony silence. With the new roof,
The Puzzle By Jean Kelly Widmer I stand at the top of the stairs and flip on the light. I’ve been sent to fetch a fresh puzzle for us to solve. Puzzles are serious business around our house. Our favorite cool-weather pastime, there is always one on the dining room table to work on from November to March. Mom, Daddy, and I work together as a team—which is rare. We spend most of our days in silos, reporting in only at
Turning the Page By Barb H Donating four boxes of books last summer was liposuction for my loft shelves, and for the pretender I’ve portrayed through an array of titles, colors, and genres. Books as good intentions mixed with others that looked good on my shelf. Every book passed through my fingers as I sorted them. Some were well-loved, dog-eared, and annotated. Several took me back a decade or more, to college years, or to the face of someone I felt
Liberated, Madly By Shelley Gaske and the Adoptee-Writers of Cohort 18 This Mad Libs®-style piece was created, done, and
Falling By Danielle Orr Make coffee, eat coffee cake. “Open up a pomegranate,” I say to myself. Allow the bursts of blood-red juice and tartness splash my mind, cleanse it. Lingering ever present behind my thoughts is a life that I shall never know. It is beyond my dreams and reach. Vacuum the rug, clean and refreshed. Another wave of complete shock and residual emotional wreckage of my very late discovery adoption yanks at my sleeve when I least expect it.
I Come From A Long Line of Ebb and Flow By Julie Mae Pigott At high tide I walk amongst the ancient elder drift and wait for the call of some lost ancestor. Sometimes the wind whistles through a narrow opening and I find my gaze turning towards something or someone unseen. I’m looking for a place to lay my body down. Let me tell it another way: I look for giant grooved and flattened driftwood shaped like otherworldly ancestors. These
