I love my parents. Really. As most daughters, I've had my run-ins with them, but overall, good parents.
It was not always like this.
From age 10-15, I dreamed of having other parents. I harbored the notion that I was certainly adopted. And, my adopted parents were going to show up any day and a tender after school special moment would happen where I would run out the front door of my house and proclaim "there you are! I knew you'd come back for me." Much like every great adoption story, they would apologize and tell me they were just to young to take care of me, and I was conceived one late night after a Heart concert when they just weren't thinking, but now that they're both successful arts/musicians/writers and have a wonderful house in California, they wanted me back. It would be a hard, emotional decision for me. Much like Annie. But, I'd leave behind my plaid Catholic school uniforms and hand-me-downs and leave with them in their huge van with TVs inside. I would go live with my real parents and they would never ground me, and they would let me eat sugary cereal, and there would be a pool in the backyard, and I could watch TV all the time, and they would buy me a Nintendo and take me to Disneyland everyday.
Every Sunday, when my parents would drag me and my sisters to church, I would pass the time wondering if my real parents were somewhere in that church. Maybe they had a private investigator there looking for me. In any case, I was so bored that I would ponder which of the other parents there were cooler than my parents. Which family would I rather live with? I was pretty sure every other family, outside of the weird ones that always sat in the front row at church, had a Nintendo but us. If I caught one of the other parents looking at me, I'd show them my adorable face, smile sweetly and put some obvious space between me and my parents so they'd know I wouldn't mind if they asked my parents after church if they could adopt me.
I'd get really mad at my Mom and threaten to leave and go find my real family. "Ok. Safe travels," she'd say. The nerve! Well, clearly I wasn't her daughter. If I was, she'd be on the floor crying and begging me to stay. I'd pack my little pink suitcase with my favorite Halloween costumes and be on my way...down the block, because that's as far as I was allowed to go. I'd spend the day waiting for my parents to cruise by in their cool conversion van and pick me up. But, after waiting a 1/2 hour, it didn't happen, and I was hungry for a snack.
Needless today, my real parents never showed up, and no one at church wanted to adopt me. So, real parents, if you're out there.... you're late. But, if you're still interested, I'd love to take a road trip in your conversion van. And, of course I forgive you for your night of young love after that Heart concert.
