70 years

Seventy years have walked beside me,
Yet one question never left my soul.
A boy grew into a man,
Still searching for the missing piece
That was never made whole.

My grandmother spoke with certainty,
Not whispers, not rumors, not maybe.
She said, "His name is Jenkins.
He was stationed at Fort Benning, Georgia.
And son, you and your father
Share the same birthday—April first."

Those words became a lifetime of wondering.

I found the man.
I sent him a picture
Of my mother at fifteen,
Young, innocent, and in love.
A picture that whispered,
"Every night is a song."

He looked back through the years
And said, "No."

Maybe he spoke the truth.
Maybe he buried it.
Only God knows.

I never wanted money.
I never wanted fame.
I only wanted to know
The man whose blood might run through my veins,
And if the name I carried
Was ever truly mine.

So today, on my seventieth birthday,
I lay this burden down.

Not because the questions are gone,
But because I have carried them long enough.

If you are my father,
I pray God gives you peace.
If you are not,
I pray He gives us both peace.

And as for me...

I will no longer let an unanswered question
Define the life I have lived.

My story is bigger than my beginning.
My worth is greater than a surname.
And my future rests in God's hands,
Not in man's acceptance.

This is not a message of bitterness.

It is my final goodbye.

May God bless the truth,
Whatever it has always been.