It was Dr. Joyce Maguire Pavao’s idea for me to go to the Eastham Superette and buy a Mega Millions ticket because, at the time, it was around 700 and something million. That was Sunday, and now it’s Tuesday and the number has gone up. I don’t buy lottery tickets because if I wanted to watch my money disappear, I could just go to Starbucks and drink it, so I exclaimed over the high number and we moved on to talking about attachment.

Joyce and I were leading the second-to-last class of the weekly Hour of Power group we’d been meeting with for the past seven months, and had she told me about the lottery in the minutes we met to get organized before class. Saying goodbye is hard enough, but when you lost your mother at or near or even not that near birth, goodbyes can feel overwhelming. I have perfected the skill of leaving a party, a room, a relationship without saying anything at all. That is not a healthy goodbye. That is what ghosts and thieves and chickens do.

So we were making a big deal out of the goodbye process. Joyce’s idea was to have everyone give a “validictorian” speech—each person had five minutes to talk or do whatever they felt like as their way of saying goodbye to the group. It wasn’t that they would never have contact with anyone there again—it was, as Joyce pointed out, that this group as it was would not most likely not exist again, and so we were saying goodbye to that.

Half of the group was going to be valedictorians that Sunday, and the other half would be valedictorians the final Sunday. What happens in Hour of Power stays in Hour of Power, but suffice it to say I’m still holding onto what each person said as a child might hold a beloved’s hand.

As each person talked, I saw them as diamonds, and I wanted to see all their facets, and I wanted them to see themselves the way I saw them: complicated, miraculous, stunningly precious and beautiful.

I wanted to give them something amazing.

Money!

After everyone was done, I said I was going to drive to the Superette to play the lottery, and that if I won, they could each have a million dollars. I put my dog in the car, checked that I had cash in my wallet, and off we drove. Twenty minutes later, I was in line getting scolded by a woman who had come from behind the meat counter to tell me the health department didn’t allow dogs and that next time I could not bring mine. That was fine with me because I could live my entire life without going to the Eastham Superette again (except of course when I go to claim my prize, and something tells me they won’t even notice Bird).

The woman with few teeth who was at the register told me to go on Amazon and buy Bird an emotional support dog vest. “No one can question that.” she said. “I’m sorry for our overly enthusiastic employees.” I gave her twenty dollars and asked for ten tickets. She handed me the printout with a big dog bone on top that she had pulled out of the $1.38 box by the register. “This is on me,” she said. I told her if I won, I would give her a million. If I win, truly, I might give her five. She looked like she had earned everything she’d ever had in her life.

I want to tell you something: tonight at 11 the winning numbers are drawn, and I am going to win.

I am going to win because I have a dream.

So, the afternoon before I win the $860 million, I am mapping out the details of my dream:

THE LOUD STORY FESTIVAL

Where: Red Rocks Amphitheater

When: October 12, 2023

What: Adopted people from all over the world stand and read in a very loud voice a one-page story they have written about their life.

Why: Many adopted people would benefit from having a pilgrimage where, for a bit of time, they are the focus of a stadium full of people’s attention. They would also benefit from bearing witness to countless other stories of fellow adoptees. This will be filmed and turned into a feature-length documentary to show the power of speaking out and being heard for adopted people. And because it will be really, really fun and wild.

Cost: For the participants, nothing. Your travel and hotel fees will be covered by rich me. For the audience, nothing. Each audience member who is not reading will also get a free t-shirt and baseball hat with the logo for the event.

In all transparency, when I win, I’m going to charter a private jet to fly Bird and me to California so I can take my daughter and her girlfriend car and house shopping. After that, I’ll get right on planning Red Rocks.

Amen.