I was having a conversation with a friend today about the potential of finding my birth mother. It’s inspired several posts that I’ve now decided to relabel as “Diary of an Adoptee” rather than “Retirement is not without Hassles.” I’ve also decided to go back through my posts from this past year of retirement and start this new category. I have already used the category of “Creature Features” to write about my love of pets and other animals. Out of that category of posts have generated a humorous children’s book idea about our Schnauzer Tinker. I will call it “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” among the 400 plus articles that I’ve written. Tinker is also an adoptee, as is our other schnauzer, Tally.

For any of you that know me personally, I’m not typically a serious writer, as I’m much more comfortable being silly and/or humorous. A majority of the poems that I’ve posted are supposed to be funny. However, sometimes my emotions get the better of me, as I use my writing of this blog to express my inner feelings rather than paying for a therapist. I’ve already had that experience several times in my life, and as the subjects turned serious, the flight mechanism of humor would automatically kick in. I also try to express my passion for sports through the category of “Old Sport Shorts,” that you will also find scattered throughout this blog.

The adoption issues in my life are very emotional, particularly since my adoptive parents died a few years ago. Suddenly, there have been developments that have resulted in the whereabouts of my birth mother. Unfortunately, she may not know about my discovery as yet. I’m waiting for a response from a certified letter that I sent, and this subject weighs heavily on my mind. It’s not funny, so please bear with me, and if you’re not interested in the adoption aspects of my life, then you can confine  your reading to my other categories. I wrote this poem today to express some of these feelings, some of which are embarrassing:

.

Adoptee Diary

.

I was a child,

With no Family Tree.

Because I was born,

An adoptee.

.

My father unknown,

Suspected Marine.

The scared mother,

Still a young teen.

.

I’m given the name,

Of Jerry Lee.

And didn’t know who,

My parents might be?

.

The next thing I knew,

A couple agreed.

They’d give me love,

And what else I might need.

.

I was soon in their home,

With the court to decide.

If they were worthy,

To remain at my side.

.

I was named Mike,

As they both agreed.

And I soon began,

To grow like a weed.

.

They raised me as if,

I was their own.

And cared for me,

Until fully grown.

.

With love and support,

I was never alone.

Showed me the skills,

To live on my own.

.

I added a branch,

Through birth of a son.

My family tree,

Had just begun.

.

Grand kids were added,

But my parents passed on.

In the back of my mind,

Not all was gone.

.

I had a name of the girl,

That gave me life.

And the love of another,

My precious wife.

.

It must have been fate,

To find my birth mother.

After all these years,

I also had a brother.

.

With cautious hope,

I wrote to him.

A chance for reunion?

Predictably thin.

.

And as I await,

For a reply.

I’m glad I at least,

Decided to try.

.

As I’m sixty-six.

She’d be eighty-four.

If she’s still able,

I’d be hard to ignore.

.

But is she alive?

And my facts correct?

Could our lives,

Once again intersect?

.

Until I have the answer,

Of a new Family Tree.

I’ve started to write,

The Adoptee Diary.

copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com