Dream

You have to start someplace.

My mother told me of my adoption when I was seven. After hearing this, I remember going to my room and doing a ‘happy dance."

Even to a seven-year-old, the news explained a lot and gave cause for celebrating.

I knew I had landed in a familial universe that didn’t seem quite the right fit, constantly feeling somewhat on the outside. But I am grateful; the alternative may have offered me no chance to live.

Walking past our neighbour's home in my early teens, I saw their spring cleaning pile set out for trash and on top was a bundle of magazines, “Better Homes and Gardens.”

As they were tied together with jute string in a criss-cross fashion, it made picking them up very easy. I was spurred to do this after wondering what better homes and gardens might look like.

Having the bundle of magazines smuggled into my room acted as a portal into another world, and the DREAM of a better life began.

ps. I didn’t think the first post would be about a seven-year-old me, but Life according to D, needs to start somewhere.

Have a great day!

Bruce