Marcellus Coleman

I grew up in Maryland, then moved to Chicago with my mother and sister. My mom passed away when I was ten years old. I hadn’t seen or heard from my father in years when he contacted my sister one day, and we had to move across the country.

Living with my father and his new family, people we’d never met before, was not for us. Years later, when I was 14, my father sat us down and told us that we were actually adopted. I never quite adapted to moving to Chicago, or being uprooted a second time. I missed my family in Maryland. But through all of this, fond memories of food were a constant in my life.