Today marks four years since Mama (my adoptive mother) passed away. She was 94. I loved her with my whole heart, but our relationship had many complexities, and we were nothing alike.

I could see in my daughter’s eyes that she was on the verge of tears when she called to FaceTime me on a Sunday morning. I asked, “What’s wrong?” She said she was sad and didn’t know why. She thought it was just hormones, but I sensed the underlying cause…

Looking back at my adoptee reunion and the few times my birth father and I connected, I wish I would’ve asked him more questions. I know he never held me before I was relinquished because he didn’t come to the hospital when I was born, but I…

Forty-five years ago today, I gave birth to the first person in the whole wide world who I knew to be a flesh-and-blood part of me. (I was adopted, so this was a huge deal.) Like today, it was a Sunday. The labor was long, and I was exhausted but elated…

When I met a former English professor in Seattle last summer, she said to me, “Why are you writing your memoir? What has caused you to take this journey?” I didn’t have an immediate answer. Initially, I’d started writing to share my story of being…