Rooter Essays
The Missing Side Collection: Abduction Narratives | Artwork | Prose & Poetry | Essays | Music
Letter to Myself
A Letter to Myself by Take Root Member Sheri Chiosie I was abducted by my mom and her boyfriend when I was only 8 months old… I grew up thinking I was with my mom and dad my whole life and did not know I had any other family or that I had been abducted until the police arrived on my doorstep one night when I was 10. Being “recovered” turned my life upside down. This is a letter that I wrote as an adult to talk to my child-self...
My Baby
My Baby by Take Root Member Linnea Kralik I am seven weeks pregnant. My baby is the size of a grain of rice. So small, yet so monumental. Imagine all the issues such a tiny being can procure. My first reaction when I found out I was pregnant, was panic. I’m not ready to be a mother. Give me another year. My husband and I have just celebrated our 10-month anniversary, it’s too soon! It will change everything! This baby has awakened a whole new set of issues. What...
Belonging
Belonging by Take Root Member Rebekah I was sitting in my room, at my dad’s house. I had just returned from studying for half a year in London, England and I was crying. For the first time since I had been found and brought home at the age of 12, after having been abducted by my mother for 8 years, I wanted to let go of the anger and feeling of doom. I was twenty three years old and ready to emotionally move on with my life. But I...
Doing Fine
Doing Fine by Take Root Member Sam M. I was fine. Or, so I thought. I didn’t need to dwell on my past, in fact, I’ve used it to propel me forward. Or, so I thought. Rehashing sad stories would just be a waste of time at best, or at worst, create an excuse for everything not right in my life. Or, so I thought. I’m not sure what led me to that first-ever meeting of adults who had been parentally abducted as children at the National Center...
Identity
Sarah or Cecilie: The Identity Issue by Take Root Member Cecilie Sarah Finkelstein As a former parentally abducted child who changed names and locations almost as often as I changed clothes, I have often asked myself the question: who am I? Not just in the deep metaphysical sense that many people struggle with, abducted or not, but in the simplest sense, deciding on which of my many real and assumed names to use, how to answer when I am asked where I come from, what religion I practice, which...
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