She thought it would be fun for me to do it.
So she had one sent to me.
I spit a lot in the vial and sent it off.
I knew that I was a neat little package of my mother English Irish
and my father
His mother and father both from the old country.
The test results came back.
When I looked at the stark white paper
my eyes teared up
the printing blurred together
I dropped the paper.
It fell on my marble table
with all the picture albums of my life on it
and an array of beautiful glass decanters.
My breath was coming in spurts.
My heart was palpitating.
I sat down in my pale yellow chair
and looked again.
My eyes focused.
In big letters it said
48% Italian Greek
some English Irish
and 2% african-American.
I could hear the cars whizzing by
all sounds of the city
outside my window.
I could see a lady sitting in her small patio
across the street
smoking a cigarette.
My mind wandering.
I heard a click.
The front door opened.
That's what my husband calls me.
I look up with a tear rolling down my cheek
my heart racing
and I think
there must be some mistake.