I want to talk to you about what it feels like getting ready to be adopted, when you are a little kid who has already had about a hundred mothers. When you can barely remember what your first mother smelled like. When everyone spoke a different language in the place where you were born than in the place you are now. When some of the people who took care of you were called "foster parents" and you didn't know what that meant except something about they weren't going to stick around. When, in the process of being moved all over the place, you lost some of your brothers and your sisters and a particular pair of shoes that felt just right and your absolutely most favorite cuddly, and a certain place on the inside of your last crib where you used to scratch with your fingernail to help yourself go to sleep.