My mother abandoned me at the airport when I was just 8 — leaving me with nothing but a backpack, so she could fly off with her new husband and his kids. When she came back, my room was empty… and legal papers were waiting…
The gate agent smiled at me kindly.She didn’t know. No one did. I was eight years old, sitting at Denver International Airport with a purple backpack on my lap, a stuffed bunny poking out of the zipper, and a boarding pass clutched in my hand like a ticket to heaven. Honolulu.I read the name over … Read more