Well here we go. My name is Carrie, I grew up in Tempe and Mesa, Arizona. Why two different towns you ask? The thing is, in some prefect world, most families are this little prefect family and everyone loves each other. Mine isn't one of those so called families. Mine was riddled with drama and tears. To look back on all of it, I'm surprised I never became an alcoholic from it or some kind of addict. I'll admit I probably have some issues to a small degree when people start to talk about how perfect their families were growing up. Then they ask about mine. Alright I feel like I need to add an edit here.( This is by no means me insulting my family. My Grandparents are amazing, they have done every thing to support me, same for my Aunt and Uncle on my mothers side. There's not to say I haven't had my own issues. My Mother and I didn't have the best relationship growing up. Deep in my heart I have always been a Daddy's little girl). Don't forget on and off again high blood pressure, although a bit of that of due to my profession as of late and being a parent of twin toddlers. "NO DON'T PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE TOLIET!" My personal favorite so far has been,"Franklin! Don't touch the dog poo!!" Ahh parenting twins that's been a very interesting journey so far, but I'll get into that later in the story.
My family has always been the odd one. My parents were both raised differently, especially when you look at them side by side. Dad was adopted from Seoul, South Korea post Korean War. When you look at all the statistics of orphans from that time, many were bore from prostitutes or mothers who's G.I "Husband" abandoned them to go back to the states. I'll never know if my dad was born from two Korean parents, or my grandfather was some G.I looking to get a quickie. My biological grandmother though was a prostitute. How do I know this for a fact you ask? I'll tell you how I know. We have to fast track for this a bit, and then I'll go back to explaining. When my grandparents were there to pick up my father in Korea, he was kidnapped. Well technically I shouldn't say kidnapped. My bio grandmother took him back, regretting her choice. When they found Dad as a wee little 2-3 year old, he was playing in the dirt outside where they found grandma "working." With the assistance of the interpreter, bio grandma explained she really cared for Dad, and regretted giving him up. She only gave Dad up because she wasn't able to financially care for him any more. Bio grandma was pregnant, and I had an aunt who was older than Dad who she took care of. Her thought was Dad had a chance of better life being adopted. After meeting with Grandma and Grandpa Diff, she felt at ease letting them take him. My Aunt later told me that Grandma cried so much, because they were afraid to let him go. Fearful that if they did, he'd end up in slave labor or worse death. I was told that grandma chose Dad because of his picture. She said he look so sad and unwanted, that she wanted to give him a better life never to feel unloved again.
I'm going to stop there for now folks. Thanks for reading my first little part in a long story of my life. You are all going to be my sounding board as I write this and proof it as a book I plan to publish eventually.
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