When I was a little girl, a picture on my mother’s dresser was haunting and mysterious. It was a black and white image of a beautiful brick building. Inscribed at the bottom, it said, “Rohrman Cottage, Baptist Orphanage, Philadelphia, PA.”

I would stare at the frame, unable to understand why the place was important to her. As ever-present as the image was, my mother always guarded her story. If she mentioned her childhood, she quickly moved on to something else. “One day, I will tell you all about it. Not now...”

“That was my home for most of my childhood.” 

My Mom's Story

Through the years, I have heard vignettes of her life experience and wondered, What was it like? How did it feel to live that experience? Hers was a childhood that reflected a Dicken’s experience. One full of tragedy but that she survived along with her siblings growing up in a Baptist orphanage. Despite it all, somehow, my mother was able to maintain her sense of humor and her sense of hope.

No matter what challenges life presented,
she never gave up on her dream of having a family. 

For years, I have listened and done my best to comprehend what her life must have been like. Through my writing, I have tried to extract the lessons, the pain, and the beauty of her experience. To dig into her life, so that I may have a better sense of who I am. 

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