My mother was born of a woman who did not keep her. One of many siblings, my mother was supposedly the only child her mother decided she could not keep. She was adopted into a very well off, heavily educated Black and Native family, a family that never officially revealed to her that she was adopted.
Loss is, in no way, the same for everyone. My brother, on hearing about the loss of our mother, went immediately back to playing with LEGOs. Only months later did he process what had happened, and cry about it for the first time.
Deep within my soul there was a part of me that knew.
The delights of the ZX Spectrum may be unfamiliar to many American readers. But as one of the very first home computers aimed at a mainstream audience, the humble machine dominated the European market for years.
Everyone alive is an expert on this most compelling of subjects. Nothing is, or ever was, more wonderful, more dreadful, more inescapable, or the subject of more talk than the family unit. Every clan and tribe has its tale to tell, and nearly all the tales I have heard shed some light on the chief question: what is it that makes a good family?