My childhood began not completely unusual, maybe it is to some. I was born in the Garden District of New Orleans, in a Baptist hospital that has since been destroyed by fire. It was the 1970’s and things were quite different then. Unwed girls didn’t have babies. So I was brought to the Methodist Home for Unwed Mothers. I was born in September and adopted by October. I spent 26 days as an “orphan”. I have no issue with that. I’m perfectly happy my birth mother knew she wasn’t ready for a baby and gave me to a couple who were. My parents.
SIDEBAR: The odd thing is? I’m built JUST LIKE my father. The universe has a sense of humor because 5’1″ is a bitch. /SIDEBAR
My mom told me it rained the day they got me and she held me on the three hour drive down interstate 10 to Sulphur, Louisiana. Which got me thinking…I need a cool title after my name like Khalessi: Kellie the Abandon or some such. Kellie the Lost. No clue. I’ll think of something.
I had a wonderful childhood. My family is obscenely large. My grandmother was a twin, one of 15 children that survived. She was born in 1917 (the same year as President Kennedy) and was one of the younger children. At the time of her birth, there were nieces and nephews already waiting to greet her. She married a man 4 years younger who, at the time, was in the Coast Guard. Later my grandfather, a child of German immigrants, would join the Navy and fight for our allies being overrun by that maniac. SIDEBARTHESECOND: Yes, Nazis are horrible, but I do have to say, they were some sharp fucking dressers. Seriously, whomever designed their uniforms worked in fashion but they also instilled fear. Paralyzing fear. /ENDSIDEBARTHESECOND. In 1945 my mother was born. She was named Geraldine after the actress Geraldine Fitzgerald who was very popular at the time and my grandmother loved her. Later my Aunt Linda was born, then Frances. My grandmother longed for a son who she claimed she would name Shelby. That never happened, but she was no worse for the wear.
Well, I must continue this tale later. My husband is ready for bed and I am going to join him. I leave you with a photo my son took when he was 7. This is a screenshot of his druid (in kitty form) sitting on a precipice in Stranglethorn Vale, a zone of World of Warcraft. I thought it was beautiful then and I do now. He is 15 and still has a good eye for photography.