The Small One in the Family
I remember when I was younger I used to think it was cool that I was adopted into a family of giants after my parents passed. They were a good family and it was a time in history when giants and humans were finally starting to co-exist. There were still plenty of segregated areas across the country but where I was going was not one of them. I was ten when I was adopted and at first – it was the coolest thing. I had a giant father, who could scoop me up with one hand and a mother who could literally drape me across her lap when I was feeling blue. I even had a little sister – only two years younger than me who I loved to play with. I didn’t mind being the ‘doll’ in her games because she was always old enough to know to be gentle. Sarah was important to me and even though I’m barely the size of one of her hands now, I wanted to protect her.
But at seventeen…those feelings were