I was half adopted. For those of you who don’t know what that means, for me it was that my mother who was maybe 22, took off from our hometown in the northeast and followed a man to Georgia. That man was not my father. She left me with my grandparents intending to return for
Tag: Take a Break from the Binge
I ought to be grateful that I stopped myself from going down that road. I should be glad that I am heeding the warnings, listening to the wise ones, learning from the cautionary tales.”
And another part of me whispers,
“That’s great and all, but I want to see it for myself. I want to be sure I’m on the right path for me.”
I guess we’ll see.