Member-only story
A few weeks ago, I resumed researching my biological mother’s life, something I gave up on nearly 15 years ago when I learned of her death. It’s a slow process and I have little to go on, but one thing has changed: Courtesy of an old yearbook, I now know what she looked like.
When I started this, all I had was a letter. Now I have a letter and a picture.
It’s a small thing. It’s also the biggest thing.