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December 1992
I lied to my daughters.
There, I’ve written it. I can’t say it. I won’t say it. I will never say it.
I was not going to commit to paper the events of the past year. I was dedicated to keeping the secret. Let me be clear: I am still dedicated to this secret. But you know how secrets go! They fester like blisters, desperate for someone to come along and poke at them until they bleed.
I won’t let anyone poke, but I have to confess somewhere. To someone.
I did not file the paperwork.
I did not adopt Baby Clara.