It has taken me years to understand that no matter what happened to me, "they" never touched the part of me that is the whole of me, the best of me, the wonderful, worthy part of me. They only touched the thinnest most outer shell of me, and that part is also touched by my daughter, so that part is touched with love as well hateful intent.
That part of me they couldn't touch, is also touched by my daughter i.e. with love. I'm beginning to realize that I have focused way too often, and way too much on how the events of a ritual touched me and not how my daughter has touched me. Anyway, right now, that is how I feel, so right now, that is what I want to focus on. So, with my daughter in mind, I will give some little vignettes until other inspiration strikes me!
During a family holiday, my teen-aged daughter sat across the large living room at my mother's house. She was engaged in a serious conversation with her cousins and my younger brother. I was listening to a conversation closer to me after having picked it from the several going on around the room, as there are about 55 people in my large family.
As I listened to my side of the conversation, I overheard another close to me because my niece was talking about my daughter. (nothing bad, just discussing something she had done in school). When out of the blue I heard my niece say, "Well ask Kaylie, she's adopted."
Everyone looked up. The room fell silent. I turned my head, wide-eyed, to look at Kaylie, she at me. At the same time we both realized that, yes, she is indeed adopted! We began to laugh, as did everyone else because we realized we had forgotten she was adopted.