Adoption Series: Sleeping out
Acting out as a fostered and adopted child was my norm. “The lights are out.” “Teddy! Wake up, wake up.... View Article
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Acting out as a fostered and adopted child was my norm. “The lights are out.” “Teddy! Wake up, wake up.... View Article
I was fostered at birth and adopted at five months by the Leonhardts. I meant to make him feel bad.... View Article
Lonely and unable to ask why. I could see my home across the way from where I was boarded. I... View Article
I pushed ahead. Not sure why. I knew the scene I envisioned wouldn’t get the result I wanted. (My writing... View Article
With Dad’s hammer tucked into my belt, a length of rope looped around my waist, and a bunch of large... View Article
Mrs. Hays slipped on the wet porch step. The milk money basket hit the asphalt, spewing nickels, dimes, pennies, and... View Article
“The speeding concrete truck killed my neighbor’s dog. Their boy is hysterical. The dog is cut in two.” I read... View Article
I write this sitting in bed, remembering captivity. It was Saturday, and I’d slept in. “We’ll have peaches and cottage... View Article
Couldn’t exist sanely with things as they were. Couldn’t stand the pain. Not knowing another way, I braced myself and... View Article
He threw the first plate, and it hit the floor, exploding like a shotgun blast. Fear shot through my chest,... View Article