Chapter 3. From Crayons to Confusion

The first negative encounter I remembered as a result of being adopted was when I was seven. A little girl who lived down the hill exclaimed in a hateful voice, “I know something you don’t’re adopted!” Although that was a familiar word, I wasn’t fond of the tone. “So what?” I fired back. “Your… Continue reading Chapter 3. From Crayons to Confusion

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First Love

In 1976 I turned eighteen.  There was a clubhouse in the Knobs that was known for its Saturday night dances.  That’s where I met Angela.  She was seventeen and had long, dark hair and shapely curves.  At semi arms length, she was revolving to a slow song with another young man.  When she dislodged from… Continue reading First Love