I have no memory of my birth parents. There is no record of them that I have been able to find. When I was left in a airport there was considerable effort to locate them with no success. I was remanded to foster care, the doctors there estimated my age based on development to be 19 weeks old. And so while I celebrate a birthday on May 23rd, I have no idea if it is right.
Foundry House, a state funded foster care facility, is what I call where I grew up. Sure I fostered out to a lot of homes, especially in the first year I was there. My allergy to RFT: #39, an anti-staining agent present in most children's clothing during my infant years cause me to be returned to the Foundry after just short visits.
Even when I managed to find a family that figured out my allergy there was the problem of my imaginary friends, the problem being I didn't imagine them, they were real. I look back and realize that I have been awakened for as long as I can remember. I cannot remember a time when the spirits have not been there, as companion, conspirator, or confidante.