It was a dark and stormy night in the month of October. I was not yet one month old when my mother held me tightly to her chest. I was wrapped up tightly in a grayish blanket that was blocking the rain. My mother was running down the dark street, looking around to make sure no one was around to spot her and what she was about to do. She ran up the steps to the adoption agency building, looked around once again, she gently laid me down onto the hard concrete porch. I started to cry once the first rain drop landed on my face. My mother pinned a piece of paper to my blanket, knocked on the door, took off running and hid in a nearby bush to make sure someone came out to pick me up and take me inside. A young lady, who seemed to be in her twenties at that time, opened the door. She looked around until she heard me crying. She then looked down and picked me up, as she scanned the area again for anybody that could have possibly set me down on the porch. She noticed the wet paper attached to my gray blanket. She started to read the note to herself, letters were gone and runny from the rain, but she filled in the blanks and the note read:
"Please take my child, I can't take care of her right now. Her name is Samantha Ann. I hope you can find her a good home, to someone that can take great care of her."
The woman looked up and scanned the area again, but still didn't see anyone. She turned around and carried me inside the agency. The woman took me to head manager of the adoption agency. The head manager took me from the woman's arms and the manager herself read the note out loud to the other employees, but quietly so that the children that were sleeping in the other room couldn't hear them talking. The manager rocked me a little to make me stop crying, as she commanded the employee who picked me up to go down to the local market and buy more baby materials, such as diapers, and food. Tomorrow, they were going to take me to the nearest shopping centre to get clothes for me. The manager commanded another employee to go get the free crib ready for me to sleep in. Another kid by the name of Phil Brooks was living there, he was at age two, he was just learning how to talk and he knew how to walk, he would help the ladies with my diapers, feeding me, he helped me learn how to crawl and to walk. He was always playing with me since I was the only other kid around his age. We formed a special bond with each other, when he went to kindergarten I was left at the orphanage by myself when another kid my age named Jimmy was dropped off, he also became very tight to me and Phil. Phil was adopted when I was the age ten, and it was left down to me and Jimmy, a few months later Jimmy was adopted by this fine couple. Two years later, I was adopted by a single mother that wanted to fill a void, and she didn't want a little baby but not one that hasn't went through puberty all the way. Jimmy ended up living two doors down from where this lady lived so I could still hang out with him, he hasn't heard from Phil either, I gave up on Phil, I missed him so much, he was like my brother that I never had. The single mother had a nice house, she worked two jobs and was home rarely, so I basically went to school, came home, did my homework, cook dinner, and hang with Jimmy, we got interested in the wrestling world because one night nothing else was on besides that. Jimmy and I started dating and still dating, when we were in high school at age 16, I never forgot about Phil and all the moments we had together, the ladies at the orphanage took pictures of Phil and me, and Phil, Jimmy and I when we were younger and the day that Phil left, I made a scrapbook of all those photos before I was adopted and took it with me, everyday that I miss him I looked through it.
