Nana said she was Scottish royalty. I was the only one who believed her. I proved it
(Word Count: 271)
I opened my jewelry box and removed the small locket containing my Great-grandmothers’ hair, passed down to me as her namesake. I filled out the small note, with the information required by the genealogical society doing the DNA test. Carefully I wrapped the box in brown paper and took it to the Post Office. The organization promised me an answer in three weeks. It was going to be a long wait.
I tried to keep myself busy during my wait. Along with work and basic family life, I culled through my records to check on any information I might need if the DNA testers required more facts on family background. Over the years I’d spent hours collecting and documenting information from other family members. I could prove through legal documents I was related to my maternal Great-Grandmother.
My family thought I was crazy trying to prove the information. They said nothing would come of it. They told me I couldn't expect any money from the findings because that side of the family didn’t own anything of value. My reward would be proving my Great-Grandmother was telling the truth.
Finally, two and a half weeks later I received the letter I was waiting for. Shakily I opened it and read: “We are happy to inform you there is a 95% probably you are related to the above-mentioned person. This information has been passed on to other relatives in Scotland as you requested. Congratulations.” I looked at the picture on the wall over my bed and smiled. “I proved your claim, Nana. I love you.”