F - Little Orphan Annie

I was born in 1979.

Annie came out in 1982. The dramatized story of a poor little orphan finding her forever family in a lonely, wealthy old man. Singing and dancing their way into my little growing psyche.

Then came the great Cabbage Patch riots of 1983. The adorably ugly dolls that came with adoption certificates. And despite the odds, I got one.

1984 the spit fire, homeless orphan Punky Brewster wormed her way into my heart.

Rags to Riches (a musical, of two seasons - where a rich bachelor adopted 5 orphan girls) entered my life in 1987. All these years later, I can still hear those girls singing and dancing while mopping in a dream girl-band making chores less boring and solidifying a fantasy of a house full of happy orphans

In 1990 I was in my first musical, "Oliver" - please sir, can I have some more orphan mythology?

During those pivotal years of my childhood, I was inundated with these dancing and singing and happily ever after adoption stories. What a crock of hooey.

2009 my wife and I welcome 2 children into our home through the Department of Children and Family Services.

Their adoptions are finalized in 2011.

Over the years, there's been little singing and dancing. No instant families "together at last, together forever." But hard lessons about attachment and rejection and the pain of separation from biological families.

2016 we welcomed 2 more children into our home.

In 2017 we adopted them.

And more lessons and more reality. More opportunities to see the boundaries of love and loss and never being enough. Our journey is not over - no where near - but if feels as though we've been hanging off that bridge waiting for the helicopter rescue us for far too long.

So F - Orphan Annie and the adoption lies my childhood sold me.

F - the two act stories with grande finales and giant curtain calls.

F - the adoption certificate toys with gold seals.

F - the mismatching shoes and adorable spunk.

F - the orphan fairy tales and promises that love can be enough to mend any brokenness.

But I'm not letting go, I'm still holding out for Tomorrow - because maybe, happily ever after is only a day away. Or maybe happily ever after is finding music in the moments in between the brokenness and embracing them until the next one. Or maybe, just maybe...