My sister told me, the milkman left me.

My sis and parents were brunettes, but I was a redhead.

We got milk left by the milkman every day on the porch. I was 5 years old my sister told, the milkman dropped me off.

In my mind, I thought when dropping off the milk, the milkman left a baby, me. No harm, no foul.

I had no idea about sex or how babies were made. I thought about being dropped off, and thought, so that’s where I came from.

Even the stork story seemed enchanting.

I loved my family. In my little mind, I felt lucky that the milkman had chosen our house.

My big sis was awesome! She was my best friend.

I was overjoyed that the milkman had dropped me off. I never thought about it again!

Years later I learned that only 3% of humans on earth have red hair. (Now it is down to 1–2 %) That red hair is genetic.

My grandma was a redhead. She died at 91. I think we look alike.

My grandma whispered in my ear before she died,

“We’re smarter than the rest of them. We can’t tell them, cuz it pisses them off!”

She was talking about non-redheads.