Insisting On Meeting Her Birth Family

She looked through family photos trying to figure out Whether or not she belonged Knowing she did not Her birth mother was deceased now She wished she had never found this family They had been reluctant to meet her They had their own history. It was not hers. She had nothing in common with them. She felt sad as she looked through their meager box of photos Looking for something that would make her day better Her own family was three states away Lamenting that she had to do this A week before Christmas Wanting her to be there desperately She could see the photos of herself on their mantle. They were her everything. She put down the meager box, phoned Uber, and left this bunch of strangers a note. They would figure it out when they saw the afghan folded up and the couch empty. None had been eager to see her. Conversation stilted. About as unwelcoming as her birth mother had been. She saw her in them.