Missing Puzzle Pieces

I don’t know how far back the story began. The stage was set, players in place, long before I was born. I do remember that I always knew I was adopted. My first memory was of my mom telling me I was chosen. She told me the story of how she and my dad went to pick out a baby, because they wanted one so much. They walked down rows of babies. When they stopped at me, I reached out for my dad’s finger. I had found my new family.