I’m adopted, as was my sister before me. From my understanding, my parents were on a long waiting list before I came along. For years I pictured the demand for babies being much higher than the amount of available ones. When I was ten years old, my family moved from Pensacola to Miami following an opportunity for my dad’s business. In no time at all, his construction business was booming. We moved into a beautiful, rather large house and were able to buy pretty much anything we wanted. We went on frequent vacations and had nice cars.
It was no secret that my dad had always wanted a son. Aside from his fishing and racecar driving interests, he needed an heir to the family name. In my parent’s apparent blissfulness, they decided to adopt another child. This time around, they specified that they wanted a boy. I don’t recall it taking very long at all, and they were matched with a couple. Over the next few months there was lots of shopping and preparing. There was also a home visit or two. The big day came, and to everyone’s surprise, our baby boy was a baby girl. We brought her home and doted over her. She was the most precious, pampered baby I could imagine. We completely adored her. Just a few months later our world turned upside-down.
Some poor decisions had left our dad’s company in a tough spot. He had taken on some partners, and things had gone awry. He sat us down for a family meeting. He was very upset as he explained to us that there was going to be a trial. He said everything would be fine, but that there were some people who were angry and would probably say some pretty nasty things. He told us to pack up and head back to Pensacola for the duration. He said he would be along shortly afterward. We were well on our way to losing the house. The plan was to regroup once we were all together again.
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