Conversations with my birth mother and father revealed something I never knew about my tattoo, and it sent chills to my bones.
The true test will be if I can accept the words I use to craft my tale and trust my readers will benefit from them somehow. In essence… can I believe in myself a little bit more?
My birth parents had always just been this vague concept... But it was in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve that I realized there were two very real people out there somewhere who gave me life.
One day, we were standing on the upper deck sipping boat drinks and inhaling the ocean breeze. My biological dad and I were choking back emotion as we talked about this second chance we were given to know one another.
It hadn’t really occurred to me that a funeral would bring about the chance to meet my biological aunts, uncles, cousins and grandfather for the first time... Not only would I be mourning... I would be making a first impression on the rest of my birth mother’s family.
My biological dad looked eerily similar to the way he looked in a dream I had as a child. He was tall with whispy strawberry blonde hair. His skin had a pink tint to it. He wore dark wash jeans that fit him well, with a light blue button down shirt and flip-flops.