Working up the nerve, strolling along the raw, rocky coastline in my best suit and overcoat. I watch as the smoke rings from my breath float upward, again and again. Finally, I turn toward the small seaside town, flipping my dress shoes off when I hit the cool sand.
Fifty-years-ago today, born to a Mrs. Linda Moore. The search for my birth mother ended here. A baby boy, her unexpected bundle of joy, she said. Right away, I noticed the surfing trophies showcased in a line just like mine. Our crooked noses left no doubt.
Fifty-years-ago today, born to a Mrs. Linda Moore. The search for my birth mother ended here. A baby boy, her unexpected bundle of joy, she said. Right away, I noticed the surfing trophies showcased in a line just like mine. Our crooked noses left no doubt.
