Mother’s Day sucks. There, I said it! I fully admit it. It shouldn’t. I’m the proud and lucky mom of two great kids, a girl, 10, and a boy, 4. They are my life, my joy, and I couldn’t imagine my world without them. But see, I belong to this club, the one that no one ever wants to be a part of.

 I’m a card-carrying member of the “my mother is dead and it sucks club.”

Somewhere I have a black and white photo of my mother’s purse, hanging off a tree limb, on the edge of a beach in Maine. It’s not a particularly great photo. But I still remember the moment I took it, thinking it looked odd and a bit lonesome. 

We’d been at my cousin’s wedding in New Hampshire. The day after the wedding was overcast and rainy. Instead of driving south to head home, Mom first drove north. Just so we could stop for a while at a beach. She needed to see the ocean; walk in the sand. Like the photograph, there’s not much to the story. It was just a very “Mom” thing to do. Like hanging her purse on the tree.

“What’s it like, being adopted?”

Not a ton of people have asked me this question, but maybe more than you’d think , and it’s really never bothered me because the answer, for me, was easy.  “I don’t know,” I’d always tell people.  “What’s it like not being adopted?”