I had told Mom I'd take the day off and help clean out her attic. Since Dad had died, she hadn't been up there.

My brother and I had started going through an old steamer trunk on a whim several months ago. Mom came up to call us to lunch and saw we were kneeling beside the trunk. "I'll go through that... just close it up and come downstairs." Mom ordered. So we did.

When I got there today Mom's car wasn't in the garage, so I figured she was doing a few errands. I got back in the car to pull it over so that she could get around me. I pulled out the trash bags and loaded boxes on the dolly to take upstairs.

It took me another half an hour to get things organized with tape, markers, newspaper, and scissors. Jim called to tell me he wasn't going to make it. My nephew had an away game.

I heard the garage door go up and wondered if Mom had remembered I was coming over today.

She came up the stairs like a gazelle...all the while yelling my name and telling me to wait until she joined me. I assured her I had not started throwing anything into give-away boxes, yet.

I was somewhat freaked out by her demeanor, but chalked it up to missing my Dad and not wanting to attack this job.

She went downstairs and carried coffee back up. I sat on the old rocker and told Mom that we needed to sell the house...and there was only one way to do that. Our tears mingled with coffee and I pulled out the first empty box to fill.

I started to open the old steamer trunk and she said she would go through it herself because of important papers.

I turned to pull open the top drawer of Gran's antique dresser. I was methodical, asking once in awhile if she wanted a certain item. We spoke of our relationship and how it had grown stronger over the years. Jim always seemed to have a great relationship with our parents. I really never did. I rarely felt close to my Mom...but I tried...I tried.

Soft were the sounds I heard coming from the window seat. I turned to see Mom holding a picture to her chest. She had a stricken look on her face that frightened me. I ran to her, holding her to me. I glanced at the picture of her and a man I didn't know. They were obviously in love. She pushed me away while the picture flew from her hands. I picked it up but she grabbed it back, yelling for me to just please go. She ran out while yelling we would finish another day.

I was crying all the way out and then heard Mom call my name. I turned and saw her coming after me.

"Mom", I cried. She pulled me back into the house. She told me to go sit down and she would be back. The things going through my mind were endless. What could make my Mom panic as if she were caught stealing?

An hour passed and I was getting impatient. I got up just as she came in, carrying a big leather satchel. "Please sit down," she said.

She pulled out a big legal-sized envelope addressed to me.

I began to read what could not possibly have been the truth. The woman in front of me; my Mother...was not. She was my aunt. I struggled for words I could use to ask questions.

She just kept looking down. "What happened to my real Mom?"I asked. She handed me the picture of her, my aunt, and the man. I asked her why she gave me her picture. She said,"That's not me, honey. It's your Mother, my sister."

I was stunned that that was my real Mother. They looked exactly alike. I suddenly felt as if I was talking to a stranger. I wanted to talk to my dad...and it was too late.

I asked her how I ended up with my aunt. Did my dad love you and not Mom?

"No, Honey, The picture is of your Mother...and dad. The man you knew of as your dad helped me raise you and is Jim's dad.

"But, what happened to them? What happened to my parents?" I managed to ask.

She looked at me, held out her arms, and said, "I don't know. Two days after you were born, your dad picked your Mother up from the hospital. No one has seen either of them since."

Your dad left this envelope for you...and there is another from your Mother.He left $200.000
and she left a silver bracelet that matched the one I'd worn most of my life. My aunt said my grandma had bought them for her twins. My aunt had given me hers on my sixteenth birthday.

I asked how many ways she had tried to find them. My aunt said, "Too many to remember, honey."

I hugged my aunt and went to look up private detectives on my phone. I had to try to find them myself. I had to.