The prince comes along and rescues the princess with a kiss and their destiny is to live happily ever after....
BUT, that is not what happened. Life had a different plan for me and I was unprepared for it. In February of 1969, I missed my period, I wasn't alarmed at first because my sweetheart and I had been fighting a bit and I felt stressed, so I thought it might be that I was just off balanced. We also had only made love a few times so I was sure that everything was just a little delayed. I waited...I waited some more until March rolled around and I missed it again, there was no denying it now.
I was pregnant.
How could this be happening to me was what immediately went through my mind. When the real question should of been: how could this NOT have happened to me. We were two 17 year old kids that were caught up in our teenage raging hormones. Not for one minute did either of us think about pregnancy. We did not use any sort of birth control. Birth control pills were just being presented to the public, and you needed a signed permission from a parent to get them from a doctor. At that age I still had never even been to see an OB doctor. If you wanted prophylactics, they were kept behind the counter at the drug store where you had to ask the pharmacist for them. Neither of these options were ever talked about between the two of us. So how could this NOT happen?
Now what? Once again my fantasy took over and even though I was scared I thought that everything would be alright because after all we loved each other. I kept this "secret" to myself for a few more weeks, trying to sort out what I was going to say to him, to my parents and to my friends. It eventually became to big for me to carry anymore alone so I told a good friend. This at least allowed me to release some of my thoughts and after long heartfelt conversations I decided that I would tell my sweetheart first. I thought together hand in hand we would face the rest of it together. Telling our parents, letting everyone know how much in love we were and that this child was proof of that love.
Ah, the sweet mind of a 17 year old girl. I remember that we made arrangements to meet in the auditorium of the school. I remember that we were sitting side by side when I told him. I thought he would be fearful like I was in how we were going to tell our parents that plans had changed and that we would be getting married after graduation. I remember I thought he would take me in his arms and tell me everything was going to be alright, and that we would face our future together.
However, that is not what happened.
He got mad, furious even, asking me how could I have let this happen. How could I be so silly as to try to trap him into marriage. Didn't I remember that he was going to college, he was smart, and he was going to make a mark for himself. Because at least one of us aspired to better them self. How could I possibly be so stupid as to think that there would be a happy ending. And just how was he going to explain this to his parents? He grabbed his things and got up and stormed off, leaving me there to cry uncontrollably by myself.
I was alone, I was pregnant and I was 17 years old.
breaking the rule...
That kiss made it impossible for me not to break my rule of dating people from my school. That kiss made it impossible for me to think straight. Everything from this point on went so quickly. This relationship started fast and we both seemed to be falling very hard for one another. There were phone calls, double dates to the drive-in, there was hand holding as we walked home from different events that we would meet at and love notes passed between classes. It wasn't long before he bought me a blue star sapphire ring that declared to everyone that we were a couple. We had an attraction to each other that was so strong, and raw, unlike anything I had ever felt before. It wasn't like we had these great conversations with each other, because actually we still just did a lot of that teasing and flirting with each other. The feelings that I felt when he would kiss me or touch my hand undeniably made me fall in love the fall of 1968. We fell deeply, hormonally in love with each other.
We were such an unlikely couple, the beauty queen and the scholar. Here I had been told all to often that I was not college material, and he on the other hand had been told he had great potential to go far. This boy was going to go to college, he was smart and he was going to have a great future. Everyone said so, his parents, his teachers, and the school councilors. Unlike me, he had somewhat of a plan for himself, (as did everyone else for him) but there was another side to this boy. A darker side, a troubled side that most people either never saw or choose to over look. This was the side that I thought I could help him heal if I loved him well enough.
We were together whenever it was possible. He had a part time job and worked most weekend nights, but he would come over after work and we would hang around my house. Sometimes we would get together with other couples. We certainly seemed to be growing closer, emotionally and physically. After new years in 1969 we finally made love. This changed everything for me. Now I knew this was the person I was meant to be with. Now I knew that we would be together forever, but with these new feelings also came a emotional change in me. I was no longer willing to accept the fact that he wanted to spend time with anyone but me. This became a problem, between us. When he would tell me he was going out with the boys instead of coming to see me I would cry and carry on wondering why he needed to do that. I couldn't seem to understand his need for that and I fought with him whenever it would happen. Of course, we would make up after he did exactly what he was going to do. My fear now was that he would break up with me and what would I do without him now.
The more these fights came the more I began to see this boys dark side. This boy with all his potential disliked his parents, disliked authority and he disliked himself in a great many ways. So, he drank a great deal , he got fired from his job, and he began to act more out of character that year. A great many people, including his parents, thought it was my fault that he was like this. That somehow I led him astray and down the wrong path. Nothing could of been farther from the truth. This naive 17 year old girl believed in him, I thought I was trying to help him by keeping him close. I thought if I loved him enough that he would see that he did not have to act out and be self destructive. This was the first boy that I felt those hormonal feelings for. The feelings of not wanting to be separated from him, the feelings of passion, the feelings that were so unfamiliar to me. He was the first boy I received a ring from, the first boy that talked to me about love and marriage, and the first boy that I had an intimate relationship with. I thought we would be together forever. I thought that we would be married someday and live the happily ever after ending like those in fairy tales. (This was the beginning of my confusion between sex and love.) If no one else believed in us, at least I did and we would run away together and prove them all wrong was the biggest fantasy that I entertained.
But that fantasy was not what happened...
We were such an unlikely couple, the beauty queen and the scholar. Here I had been told all to often that I was not college material, and he on the other hand had been told he had great potential to go far. This boy was going to go to college, he was smart and he was going to have a great future. Everyone said so, his parents, his teachers, and the school councilors. Unlike me, he had somewhat of a plan for himself, (as did everyone else for him) but there was another side to this boy. A darker side, a troubled side that most people either never saw or choose to over look. This was the side that I thought I could help him heal if I loved him well enough.
We were together whenever it was possible. He had a part time job and worked most weekend nights, but he would come over after work and we would hang around my house. Sometimes we would get together with other couples. We certainly seemed to be growing closer, emotionally and physically. After new years in 1969 we finally made love. This changed everything for me. Now I knew this was the person I was meant to be with. Now I knew that we would be together forever, but with these new feelings also came a emotional change in me. I was no longer willing to accept the fact that he wanted to spend time with anyone but me. This became a problem, between us. When he would tell me he was going out with the boys instead of coming to see me I would cry and carry on wondering why he needed to do that. I couldn't seem to understand his need for that and I fought with him whenever it would happen. Of course, we would make up after he did exactly what he was going to do. My fear now was that he would break up with me and what would I do without him now.
The more these fights came the more I began to see this boys dark side. This boy with all his potential disliked his parents, disliked authority and he disliked himself in a great many ways. So, he drank a great deal , he got fired from his job, and he began to act more out of character that year. A great many people, including his parents, thought it was my fault that he was like this. That somehow I led him astray and down the wrong path. Nothing could of been farther from the truth. This naive 17 year old girl believed in him, I thought I was trying to help him by keeping him close. I thought if I loved him enough that he would see that he did not have to act out and be self destructive. This was the first boy that I felt those hormonal feelings for. The feelings of not wanting to be separated from him, the feelings of passion, the feelings that were so unfamiliar to me. He was the first boy I received a ring from, the first boy that talked to me about love and marriage, and the first boy that I had an intimate relationship with. I thought we would be together forever. I thought that we would be married someday and live the happily ever after ending like those in fairy tales. (This was the beginning of my confusion between sex and love.) If no one else believed in us, at least I did and we would run away together and prove them all wrong was the biggest fantasy that I entertained.
But that fantasy was not what happened...
The kiss...
There was a boy who went to these events who liked to tease me a great deal. He went out of his way to give me a hard time about being a Harvest Queen; about how honored he was to have such a noble person sitting across from him at a picnic table. He made me laugh, he made me defend myself verbally, but most of all he made me feel special with his attention. We both had a quick wit and could banter back in forth with a sort of dry sense of humor. He was not someone I had ever even talked to before that end of summer. He use to sit behind me for three years in chorus and I do not believe we ever said hello to each other once in that time. This was one of the "smart" boys, this was someone I did not consider in my dating circle, this was someone that I did not feel I had anything in common with. Yet, there we were flirting with each other whenever the situation was presented to us. My liking him would break all the rules I set up for myself, so even though there was an attaction I tried to stay at arms length. I tried not to show that I actually liked him.
Summer had ended and so did those gatherings. School began in September and it was back to business as usual. For me that meant that I went to school, took my required classes and then went home to the secret creative life I had. I would draw and write in my room, neglecting anything that had to do with school. Accept English class, which I adored because we read the most interesting books, and there were discussions about them, it was the only class that meant anything to me.
A very good friend of mine suggested that I attend a school dance because there was someone going that liked me. She wouldn't tell me who, even with a great deal of questions and prying on my part. I had not attended a school dance since my freshman year, but my curiosity got the better of me. I made sure I picked out just the right mini skirt and top, to go along with my twiggy hair style and make-up.
Once I arrived there I found a group of kids standing around together that were part of the summer gatherings. There he was, the boy who, had made me laugh so much over the past month. We stood there awkwardly in the group not saying much directly to each other, we didn't dance, we didn't joke, we simply stood around. So, here I was at a dance at school, which was unfamiliar and my friend wasn't even telling me who was there who liked me and I couldn't find any reason to stay. I was uncomfortable there and wanted to leave. As I was getting my coat, one of the boys asked me how I was getting home. I had walked there from my house and I was planning on walking back home. He didn't think it was a good idea for me to do that and offered me a ride. Perhaps this is who likes me I thought, someone I would never have thought of. Offering up our good-byes to those in the group we started to leave and the boy, who had teased me, also started to leave. Seems that this was his ride also. I sat in the front seat between these two boys, wondering could it be the driver or the other passenger that my friend said liked me.
Once we arrived at my house, the boy who teased me so much got out of the car, he was the passenger, and he walked me to my door. This boy who barely uttered two words to me all night long, said goodnight to me and leaned in and kissed me. That kiss knocked me off my feet. That kiss made my heart pound, my knees go weak and took my breath away. That kiss made this 17 year old girl light headed and dizzy. These were feelings that I had never experienced before from a kiss.
That kiss was the beginning of my first real feelings of love.
Summer had ended and so did those gatherings. School began in September and it was back to business as usual. For me that meant that I went to school, took my required classes and then went home to the secret creative life I had. I would draw and write in my room, neglecting anything that had to do with school. Accept English class, which I adored because we read the most interesting books, and there were discussions about them, it was the only class that meant anything to me.
A very good friend of mine suggested that I attend a school dance because there was someone going that liked me. She wouldn't tell me who, even with a great deal of questions and prying on my part. I had not attended a school dance since my freshman year, but my curiosity got the better of me. I made sure I picked out just the right mini skirt and top, to go along with my twiggy hair style and make-up.
Once I arrived there I found a group of kids standing around together that were part of the summer gatherings. There he was, the boy who, had made me laugh so much over the past month. We stood there awkwardly in the group not saying much directly to each other, we didn't dance, we didn't joke, we simply stood around. So, here I was at a dance at school, which was unfamiliar and my friend wasn't even telling me who was there who liked me and I couldn't find any reason to stay. I was uncomfortable there and wanted to leave. As I was getting my coat, one of the boys asked me how I was getting home. I had walked there from my house and I was planning on walking back home. He didn't think it was a good idea for me to do that and offered me a ride. Perhaps this is who likes me I thought, someone I would never have thought of. Offering up our good-byes to those in the group we started to leave and the boy, who had teased me, also started to leave. Seems that this was his ride also. I sat in the front seat between these two boys, wondering could it be the driver or the other passenger that my friend said liked me.
Once we arrived at my house, the boy who teased me so much got out of the car, he was the passenger, and he walked me to my door. This boy who barely uttered two words to me all night long, said goodnight to me and leaned in and kissed me. That kiss knocked me off my feet. That kiss made my heart pound, my knees go weak and took my breath away. That kiss made this 17 year old girl light headed and dizzy. These were feelings that I had never experienced before from a kiss.
That kiss was the beginning of my first real feelings of love.
Setting the Stage...
I had made the decision early in high school not to date or hang out with too many people from school. It seemed that whenever I did that I found that too much was expected of me. You saw the same people every day and I found it took to much out of me to keep up with everyone. There was always gossip of some sort; someone mad at someone else; people not talking and someone was always either in the middle or completely left out. For whatever reason it seemed that I just happened to be that someone most of the time. So, I choose to be careful about the relationships I formed, especially when it came to boys. Most of the boys I was friends with in school were older than I was by a year or two. There was no romantic interests with any of them so we could go about the day laughing and joking without being serious. There were two sororities in my high school and three fraternities. I was asked to join one of the sororities when I was a freshman. I did so without hesitation as it seemed to me that the "popular" girls were the ones that were members. I often wondered if I was asked because of the popularity of my brother, but did the best I could at being my shy self. I liked sorority. We would get together on Saturday nights at someones house and have meetings, where we would decide on how to raise money so that we could rent a cottage in the summer together. We had sleep overs where we stayed up way to late and played with Ouija boards that told our future! We confided in each other about who we liked and problems we might be having. We were a sisterhood. Those of us in these organizations would gather together and pile in cars, riding out to state parks and lakes those final days of summer. It was a mixture of so many different people. Some of whom I hardly ever talked to over the four years of school. But here we were together having fun.
There was a group of boys who were considered the "smart" ones that were part of this group that I suddenly found myself in. I always knew who they were but I was not in any of their classes so I had no previous reason to socialize with them. And my rule stayed pretty true of not dating anyone from school. But, that late summer of 1968 was different. We all seemed to have a common bond now, we were seniors and we were graduating. All of us were perfectly aware that our lives were going to change in the year 1969. Who knew what would happen after graduation. Everyone seemed to be much more open, much friendlier and everyone seemed to be happy.
The drinking age in New York was eighteen at the time. Most of us were still 17, but some of the boys were 18 or looked 18 so they could buy beer. Drinking seemed to play a big part in those get togethers. For me, having a few beers made me feel less shy, and much more willing to have conversations with those I did not know very well.
That was the beginning of the relationship I was about to begin.
There was a group of boys who were considered the "smart" ones that were part of this group that I suddenly found myself in. I always knew who they were but I was not in any of their classes so I had no previous reason to socialize with them. And my rule stayed pretty true of not dating anyone from school. But, that late summer of 1968 was different. We all seemed to have a common bond now, we were seniors and we were graduating. All of us were perfectly aware that our lives were going to change in the year 1969. Who knew what would happen after graduation. Everyone seemed to be much more open, much friendlier and everyone seemed to be happy.
The drinking age in New York was eighteen at the time. Most of us were still 17, but some of the boys were 18 or looked 18 so they could buy beer. Drinking seemed to play a big part in those get togethers. For me, having a few beers made me feel less shy, and much more willing to have conversations with those I did not know very well.
That was the beginning of the relationship I was about to begin.
The time of youth...
" Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of will, quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life." Samuell Ullman
The year was 1968, it was the time of my youth, I was 17, a senior in high school and loving life.
So much was going on in the world. "The times they are changing", as Bob Dylan sang. The Viet Nam War was at its height in 1968. Hippies, flower children and drug use was all over the newspapers and television news. The "silent majority" was not so silently mocking the pacifist and war protesters. Martin Luther King was assassinated in April of that year and Bobby Kennedy was assassinated in June. Even though I was very aware of all of these events I still was either much to young or too naive to understand everything that was going on around me. Most of it seemed confusing with morals and ethics changing before my very eyes.
I was entering my senior year of high school and the excitement of graduating was thick in the air. It was going to be a year of celebration, being part of the graduating class of 1969. Everything seemed to hold great promise even if I had no idea what I was going to do once I graduated. I was finishing up my reign as a local Harvest Queen. A pageant for girls who were juniors in high school, exposing us to manners, public speaking, and the ritual of beauty contests. I knew the queenly wave by heart after a summer of activities. The shiny crown had a special place along with the sash that made it all very official. Having this title allowed me to be noticed, to be someone that people became aware of. I was no longer standing in the shadow of my very handsome, popular older brother. I suddenly found myself joining in with my classmates when activities were planned. I was going on picnics and gatherings that I did not participate in before that summer. I had a group of very good friends, and I was somewhat friendly with others in my school. However I choose to hang out with people from other schools more often, so this bonding with my classmates was really new to me. To top it off I was shy. No one ever believes me when I say that now. Their impression of me was much different. My shyness was often times misinterpreted as being conceited or stuck-up. I certainly was not without my flaws, and I was absolutely no angel. There was a part of me that always felt like a fish out of water. I rarely exposed the passion that I held for reading or writing. I rarely exposed how deeply I felt about things that were going on around me. I rarely exposed the fact that I liked to draw and write poetry, or that I kept a journal of my feelings. In a lot of ways I rarely exposed the real me or my intelligence. Looking back now, I am not sure why I didn't expose myself. Maybe it was because I didn't think people would understand me; maybe I thought I was a bit odd myself. Maybe I just didn't feel as if I fit in anywhere. Maybe it was because at a young age I was told to put the crayons away and concentrate on important things, like math and science. That my artistic side, although very nice, would be a good hobby, but would not make me any money. Perhaps that is why I was told that I did not seem like a person who was "college material". That I might want to consider being a secretary, nurse, or a bank teller. Perhaps if none of those appealed to me I might be one of those girls who should just get married and become a mother. My school counselor made sure that I took all the proper business classes so that I would be prepared to get the job in a bank or an office. I could type 110 words a minute, and do short hand, along with business math, but I disliked these classes a great deal. To be quite honest, they bored me. In my mind, I was an artist, a writer and a dreamer. However, I did not know enough to stick up for myself; that would be going against everything I was taught and in 1969 girls like me did not do that. If you did, and some brave souls did, they were marked as troublesome, without direction, or better yet having something wrong with them. It was a time when girls were just being recognized as somewhat equals, the women's movement was just starting and we were getting some recognition. More girls were preparing for college, however those where the "smart" girls, the ones that kept up with the boys academically, the ones that seemed to have potential. I did not fall into that category, or so I was told. Little did I know that fall of 1968, that I was on a path that no one had prepared me for mentally, emotionally and physically.
,
The year was 1968, it was the time of my youth, I was 17, a senior in high school and loving life.
So much was going on in the world. "The times they are changing", as Bob Dylan sang. The Viet Nam War was at its height in 1968. Hippies, flower children and drug use was all over the newspapers and television news. The "silent majority" was not so silently mocking the pacifist and war protesters. Martin Luther King was assassinated in April of that year and Bobby Kennedy was assassinated in June. Even though I was very aware of all of these events I still was either much to young or too naive to understand everything that was going on around me. Most of it seemed confusing with morals and ethics changing before my very eyes.
I was entering my senior year of high school and the excitement of graduating was thick in the air. It was going to be a year of celebration, being part of the graduating class of 1969. Everything seemed to hold great promise even if I had no idea what I was going to do once I graduated. I was finishing up my reign as a local Harvest Queen. A pageant for girls who were juniors in high school, exposing us to manners, public speaking, and the ritual of beauty contests. I knew the queenly wave by heart after a summer of activities. The shiny crown had a special place along with the sash that made it all very official. Having this title allowed me to be noticed, to be someone that people became aware of. I was no longer standing in the shadow of my very handsome, popular older brother. I suddenly found myself joining in with my classmates when activities were planned. I was going on picnics and gatherings that I did not participate in before that summer. I had a group of very good friends, and I was somewhat friendly with others in my school. However I choose to hang out with people from other schools more often, so this bonding with my classmates was really new to me. To top it off I was shy. No one ever believes me when I say that now. Their impression of me was much different. My shyness was often times misinterpreted as being conceited or stuck-up. I certainly was not without my flaws, and I was absolutely no angel. There was a part of me that always felt like a fish out of water. I rarely exposed the passion that I held for reading or writing. I rarely exposed how deeply I felt about things that were going on around me. I rarely exposed the fact that I liked to draw and write poetry, or that I kept a journal of my feelings. In a lot of ways I rarely exposed the real me or my intelligence. Looking back now, I am not sure why I didn't expose myself. Maybe it was because I didn't think people would understand me; maybe I thought I was a bit odd myself. Maybe I just didn't feel as if I fit in anywhere. Maybe it was because at a young age I was told to put the crayons away and concentrate on important things, like math and science. That my artistic side, although very nice, would be a good hobby, but would not make me any money. Perhaps that is why I was told that I did not seem like a person who was "college material". That I might want to consider being a secretary, nurse, or a bank teller. Perhaps if none of those appealed to me I might be one of those girls who should just get married and become a mother. My school counselor made sure that I took all the proper business classes so that I would be prepared to get the job in a bank or an office. I could type 110 words a minute, and do short hand, along with business math, but I disliked these classes a great deal. To be quite honest, they bored me. In my mind, I was an artist, a writer and a dreamer. However, I did not know enough to stick up for myself; that would be going against everything I was taught and in 1969 girls like me did not do that. If you did, and some brave souls did, they were marked as troublesome, without direction, or better yet having something wrong with them. It was a time when girls were just being recognized as somewhat equals, the women's movement was just starting and we were getting some recognition. More girls were preparing for college, however those where the "smart" girls, the ones that kept up with the boys academically, the ones that seemed to have potential. I did not fall into that category, or so I was told. Little did I know that fall of 1968, that I was on a path that no one had prepared me for mentally, emotionally and physically.
,
I begin...
"Dear Patricia,
There is something I don't talk about much with you, not because I'm ashamed of it, but because you sometimes have a hard time hearing it.
But it's time to break my silence.
You know I am your Inner Pilot Light, that always radiant, ever-sparkling, never extinguished glow of spirit, love, and compassion within you. But did you also know I am your darkness?
I live in shadows. I reside in your mistakes and imperfections. I burn brighter when you enter my darkness and learn from it.
As souls, we are both light and dark, radiance and shadow. When we pretend the darkness is evil we fail to fully illuminate our light.
Don't be afraid to go to the darkness, darling, and don't judge it either. I will hold your hand. I will ensure you don't get lost.
If you fall down the rabbit hole, I will send you a lifeline. I will always illuminate you back, only this time, you will hold the holy grail - the gift from the darkness - the full spectrum of non-dualistic reality, the dark and light embodied, the truth revealed.
Here with a flashlight,
Your Inner Pilot Light"
Lissa Rankin
© Copyright 2009 - 2011 OWNING PINK™ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This is my secret story, that I finally release in the year 2013.
Or, at least it is the story that my heart holds as my truth. There are parts to the story that I have told over and over again, there are parts that were whispered to a few, and there are the parts that only came out when it was dark. But, this is my side of my secret.
Someone once told me that they thought I was dealt a bad hand in life. I have never looked at it that way. In fact I have probably looked at it the exact opposite way. My life has been blessed in so many different ways. With each obstacle I have come up against I have learned some valuable lessons. Other times I have stumbled through and pushed them aside only to come up against them again later. But eventually all obstacles must be faced, dealt with and conquered. This is the story of hiding my darkness, of living with my darkness and of believing that my darkness was shameful and evil. This is the story of love, self forgiveness, healing, and coming full circle when I finally turned on my personal flashlight.
There is something I don't talk about much with you, not because I'm ashamed of it, but because you sometimes have a hard time hearing it.
But it's time to break my silence.
You know I am your Inner Pilot Light, that always radiant, ever-sparkling, never extinguished glow of spirit, love, and compassion within you. But did you also know I am your darkness?
I live in shadows. I reside in your mistakes and imperfections. I burn brighter when you enter my darkness and learn from it.
As souls, we are both light and dark, radiance and shadow. When we pretend the darkness is evil we fail to fully illuminate our light.
Don't be afraid to go to the darkness, darling, and don't judge it either. I will hold your hand. I will ensure you don't get lost.
If you fall down the rabbit hole, I will send you a lifeline. I will always illuminate you back, only this time, you will hold the holy grail - the gift from the darkness - the full spectrum of non-dualistic reality, the dark and light embodied, the truth revealed.
Here with a flashlight,
Your Inner Pilot Light"
Lissa Rankin
© Copyright 2009 - 2011 OWNING PINK™ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This is my secret story, that I finally release in the year 2013.
Or, at least it is the story that my heart holds as my truth. There are parts to the story that I have told over and over again, there are parts that were whispered to a few, and there are the parts that only came out when it was dark. But, this is my side of my secret.
Someone once told me that they thought I was dealt a bad hand in life. I have never looked at it that way. In fact I have probably looked at it the exact opposite way. My life has been blessed in so many different ways. With each obstacle I have come up against I have learned some valuable lessons. Other times I have stumbled through and pushed them aside only to come up against them again later. But eventually all obstacles must be faced, dealt with and conquered. This is the story of hiding my darkness, of living with my darkness and of believing that my darkness was shameful and evil. This is the story of love, self forgiveness, healing, and coming full circle when I finally turned on my personal flashlight.
1969...2012
In 1969 I relingished my first born child, my son, to adoption.
In 2012 we found each other.
This is our story.
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