Last night my husband had a dream that spurred me to do some research about myself.
Saturday, October 20, 1945, was my first day alive. On that day I was a one-cell creature already programmed with all the fixin's to be who I am today. My gender, personality, physical features, and vulnerability to certain diseases were magically placed inside that one cell.
And, a little less than one month later, on November 10, 1945, my little heart pumped for the first time. Is it fate or coincidence that my heart beat for the first time one day after my husband was born?
