It’s a sour fact that me and my parents don’t have a firm bond. As long as I remember I’m secretly convinced that I’m not their biological child, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who is thinking so.
Of course when I was younger I made some insinuations, wrapped in a joke or shouted out in an argument, but I never got a clue in return.
Just because of that vague distance between me and my parents I have never seriously tried to find out if my thoughts were true. For some reason it feels a bit ridiculous to do, if you are 37 years old already. What can you do more than what you did as a kid? Force your parents down and stick a cotton bud in their mouth, to swab some dna???
Another suspicious fact is that there are no baby photos of me. The story is that during the messy period after my parent’s divorce, some photo albums were lost. So, I don’t know what I looked like as a baby.
Those days my mother had stored up her stuff on the attic of grandmother’s. Several times I have asked them to get the albums off for me, but there was always a reason to postpone.
Granny died when I was 18 and my mother and me had to clean out the house. That was my chance! But after thoroughly inspecting mum’s stuff, no albums were found! I was totally upset and mad at my mum at that time.
But to my surprise it turns out that it is possible to live your life without baby photo’s. It would have been nice, but it’s no drama.
I didn’t think about it anymore.
On the internet I bumped on a picture that made me stare at it for a 5 full minutes. I gasped … and I knew THAT’S ME!!!
Well, of course in reality it is not me. I mean … duh, Afghanistan?!
I could not find a source, so I don’t know the name of the photographer, but I guess this snapshot was taken not so long ago. At least not 37 years ago.
Anyhow, I printed this beautiful photo, framed it, put it on my shelf and embraced the baby as being me.
Click on it to compare!