My name is Echoe and this is the story on how I found my true identity.
It all started when I was a sophomore in college. I had to write a paper about myself and my family history. We had till the end of the semester to turn it in which was plenty of time for me, or at least I thought.
On my way way to my dorm room I get a devastating call from my Aunt. She told me that my mom had just passed. I ran to my dorm shut my door and got in my bed and cried. My thoughts were racing all night so I didn’t get much sleep. The next morning I go to meet my aunt at my moms house. A few hours pass before my family leave and I start looking at my mom’s things. In her room on a nightstand was a letter. I pick up the letter and begin to read it.
“My Dear Echoe, I have known about your doubts about how you were born since you were little. In my heart I always wanted to tell you the truth. I couldn’t bare tell you while I was alive so I wrote you this letter to explain everything. Your real parents live in…” and then the letter just stops. I just stared at the unfinished letter in shock. How could this be? Why couldn’t she tell me? If she wasn’t my real mom then who is my real parents? How am I supposed to find my true identity? The next day I call my aunt and told her what I had found. She told me that I was adopted years ago that my “mom” brought me home and raised me. Unfortunately she didn’t know who my parents were but she did mention that she had told her she got me from a place in Louisiana. An hour goes by and I am so confused. I don’t know what to do or how I was going to find out where I came from. I go back to my moms place hoping to find more evidence of my true identity.
after a few days of searching I finally found a dusty vanilla folder . I open it and I see Bayou Louisiana written down. I continue to read and it has an address.
So I packed a few bags and left for Bayou Louisiana. As soon as I get there I find this place . After a few hours of searching I find it, but it’s abandoned. There’s nothing here. I look around for a bit before deciding to go to a hotel. The next morning I wake up and I decided to go to the library to look through records and possible articles.
After an hour I find nothing but the clerk told me I could try the old newspaper paper machine. After showing me how to use it I finally found it. The place was hit bad after hurricane Katrina and it never got rebuilt. I continue to read all the articles and I finally found this one about a missing girl days after Katrina hit.
Her parents were Jack and Diana Checkers . Something in me after reading the story about this little girl got chills all over . I continue to read realizing the girl was taken by a woman. After reading this I wrote down the name of the couple and luckily a phone number and I gave them a call.
Tears in my eyes I took a breath and told them my story. They wanted to meet me at this local diner so I did. We find a table and we finish our conversation. She shows me a picture of her kidnapped little girl. My jaw drops as everything I was feeling in my gut was becoming true . The little girl was me. I was in the picture. In disbelief I got overwhelmed and told them we would talk tomorrow. I go back to the hotel to rest as I had alot on my mind. If I was the little girl, then why would my “mom” kidnap me? I felt hurt. i finally doze off. I wake up the next morning and get a call . The parents Jack and Diane wanted to speak one more time. We met up and an hour into our conversation they told me her name. It was Marilyn . After her Grandmother. i finally told them that the little girl was me. We all start crying in disbelief. Did I just really find my real parents? We go back to their place and look into photo albums of me as a baby. I tell them that My mom that raised me loved me as her own and that she never hurt me. I will always love the mother that raised me but now I can get to know my knew family. i finally found my identity. Im a strong woman who had two incredible moms. I continue to be apart of my real parents life and I also still honor the mom that raised me.
© RoseJenkins