Alone

Last night I had a conversation with a friend of mine who is a mom.  I was telling her that I want to go to India.  "Is that possible?" she asked.  "Sure," I responded, casually looking to the crossword puzzle on the table.  I explained to her that I want to find my mom.  "Is that possible?" she asked.  "I'm not sure," I told her, "but I have to try."

When I was younger, I had a dream once in which there was a map of the world hanging on the wall.  Each person had a pin in the location they were, and each pin was connected by a piece of yarn to another pin on the other side of the map.  But then there was my pin.... all alone, no yarn, no connection, nothing.  

I've always remembered that dream, and haven't neccesarily been able to let that go.  My friend asked what it's like in India, if moms there were allowed to feel remorse/sadness/wonder if they gave their kids up for adoption.  I told her I wasn't sure, but I could imagine that any woman who has carried a child is going to think about that child every day of her life.  I have to believe that.  I can't fathom the idea of my mom giving birth to me and never looking back.  She must wonder....right?   I wonder about her, most days.  I wonder what she was like, and who my dad was.  Do I have siblings?  Do they know about me?  I tend to think about my birth family more when I'm feeling down, and lately it's been on my mind and in my heart so strong.  I feel a sense of emptiness without knowing. 

Truthfully, I don't know that I will ever be able to find my mom.  I have to try though.  I have to.  Because what if she's in India, drinking tea, or doing chores, or studying, or mothering... all the while wondering what happened to me and if I'm okay.  I want to tell her that yes, I'm okay, but that I'm also incomplete without knowing her and where I came from.