From a Small Room

the moments when you’re tongue-tied and awkward around somebody because you’re actively trying to avoid falling in love with them.

I’ve been doing some digging around in my family’s geneology. This woman, who died just before I was born, is my great grandmother Sigrid Larson. She was adopted in 1910 after six years in an orphanage.

After spending the past 12-13 hours compiling historical records, birth and death certificates, and piecing the bits of information I know to be fact together, I’ve made some calculated guesses, which I now feel the need to pursue more.

I think— and this is just on one day’s research— that her biological mother, a non-English speaking Swedish immigrant, was institutionalized in the early 1900s at Fergus Falls Hospital for the Insane. I think her daugher (my great grandmother) was taken from her while in the asylum, and couldn’t do anything about it because she couldn’t speak English.

More than anything, I’m thankful for Martin and Anna Larson, who adopted her after 6 potentially nameless and parentless years.

Here they are on their wedding day in 1901.

Here’s to a potentially fascinating and tragic dive into a family history I didn’t expect to stumble upon.