Your mother is dead! Your mother is dead! Your mother is dead! ...
Over and over, the three kids taunted me one Summer afternoon. I was 5 years old. I had just been adopted that Spring. I had been living at my new home in Grant Heights, Japan for a few months. These three kids were my first American friends after leaving my Obaachan. Three friends who told me my mother was dead. (Much later: age 6.) In fact, I think they were my first friends ever. They lived across the street. Their parents were like mine: American father and Japanese moth
