All I could think about, in my clearly advanced eight-year-old brain, was my best friend. We had the same name (both first AND middle) the same long, dirty-blond hair, the same color eyes, the same favorite color. We both were in love with Ponch from CHiPS and our birthdays were exactly one month apart. The only difference between us was that my best friend celebrated TWO birthdays, the lucky dog. She had her regular birthday, like mine, but she also had a SECOND birthday because her parents got her from somewhere else and brought her home on that day...

I couldn’t BELIEVE my luck!

To my parents’ impassioned, hesitant, heartfelt outpouring of truth, my incredibly insightful and sensitive response was:

‘Does this mean I have TWO birthdays?’ asked with glowing eyes.
‘Yes, I guess it does ...’ responded with moist eyes.
‘WOW! That’s great! Now J and I REALLY are twins! Can I go call her and tell her?’ exclaimed with a bouncing excitement.

My parents looked at each other with what I now know to be a species of shell-shock. My father nodded his head slowly, wondering if the wick was just a bit longer on the bomb and it would go off on delay.

But it didn’t. I jumped up, hugged them both. Said an excited, ‘Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad.’ Then I called J to tell her the great news.

And that was that.

Ok, so this might be the slightly abridged version, but really, that was the essence of the big unveiling of truth. I don’t remember feeling any shock or horror or angst.

Over time, there were many real questions, details to be filled-in if they were available, but ... there wasn’t any tragic confrontation. At least not until my pre- and early teens when EVERYTHING caused confrontation, including and perhaps especially being adopted.

But there it is. That’s how my tale begins and that is why my blog is available for your reading eyes. I am adopted and for me, that has not been a bad thing... just a part of who I am.