AT MY SISTER’S WEDDING, SHE SMIRKED AND SAID, “GO FIND ANOTHER TABLE, ADOPTED GIRL”

name. Your grandfather set it up under the name of the first grandchild – to be filled in when claimed.” She tilted her head. “You get to choose your own name, Rachel. That’s the part Dorothy loved most. The family that spent your whole life telling you who you weren’t doesn’t get to tell you who you are. Not anymore.”

I stood in the doorway of that continue reading …