I write fiction. I make up stories. This is not one of them.
This is all true.
Some minor details have been altered and names changed, but the story itself is true. At some point, you won’t believe it. Hell, I don’t believe some of it and I was there. I never planned on writing about it. Until I did. It’s a story about crises. It’s about resolution, about life prevailing.
It’s about adoption.
This is not a step-by-step guide on how to turn lemons into lemonade. I’m not dull enough to ignore the luck involved that made all of this happen. It’s just one story.
It happens to be true.