Pound Pup Legacy

How does a person adapt to the changes forced by loss caused by the hands of a stranger?

I'm still coming to terms with that.

I wonder if that's a wound that will ever be repaired.

My natural dad was in the Navy... my adoptive dad was in the Army.

Both served two different leaders, for two different countries.

I have one natural mother.

I was given a mother-replacement-figure who abandoned me during my times of greatest need.  Many times over.

I am a mother of four children... two boys, two girls.

I worry so much about their future.

I worry about my boys, especially.  What sort of men will they become, when there is so much hate and greed  surrounding them?  How does my love for reading and writing compete to the flash and fantasy of sports and war-games?

How do I give roots to clear understanding of things, when I myself don't even know my own real name?  I have a pile of papers on my desk, and I look at yellowed newspaper clippings with tear-filled eyes asking:  who ARE these people who claimed me?  Who took one child from one mother, and decided, "this couple seems best to care for this baby in this country".

Luck of the draw, draft of the document, swift scroll of the signature.  Before the ink dries, make sure the seller sells and the buyer buys.

THAT's the story of how many lives?