From Imaginary To Real Life Heroes (Part Two)

I'm not exactly sure how long we were with the first family but it must have been almost 2 years because I was not yet in school. To be honest, I can't really remember a whole lot from that period other than they had two daughters of their own. It could be because I was just too young. All I can remember are black and white snippets, kind of like old Polaroids. When you are young, you adapt. You get used to the way things are and you don't have the capacity to ask questions. It is a little like Darwin's theory of 'Survival of the Fittest'. What don't kill you only makes you stronger. Go tell that to a 3 year old.

Then something happened that forced the agency to remove us from that family and place us in another home. Whether intentional, accidental or what, they found my brother in the bathtub sitting there screaming from the heat of the water. It scalded him from the waist down and he wound up in the hospital. I was not quite 5 years old at the time. My sister, 5 years older, was in school at the time. So when it came time to move us, my brother was in the hospital, my sister went to one family to finish the school year out and I was sent off to the new home alone.

Needless to say, I became an emotional basket case. I didn't speak another word for months. They didn't know what to do and figured that when my sister and brother showed up that I would eventually come around. They were right of course, but the damage was done. My brother was scarred on the outside and I was scarred on the inside. And here we were again, living with a bunch of people we didn't know. This family had one son and three nieces living with them plus the three of us. Eventually, they added another one more boy from the agency.

Time moved on and I finally began school. Kindergarten to be exact. Like any kid I guess, I just trudged forward. We moved not long after that but just up the street to a cottage style house with a fair sized backyard and about a million windows which I got to know personally. At this point, I could not remember the last time I had seen my mother. It just seemed like an eternity. Then by the second Christmas we were told that we would be allowed to visit with my mother for 24 hours.

I can't begin to tell you how that made me feel. My mother, knowing this was going to be a short visit, did all that she could to pack as much fun into one day as she could. She regretted one present that she gave to my brother and me. It was a little battery operated chicken truck that would make the annoying sound of a bunch of chickens clucking.....non stop. Eventually she just removed the batteries and tried to regain some of her sanity. There were presents, which I no longer remember. And a little family tradition that she started for this special little treat. She roasted each of us a Cornish Hen with all the usual Christmas fixings.

None of this mattered of course as the final hour approached. She packed everything up for us making promises that she knew she couldn't keep. Then we all piled into taxi cab for the ride back. It was Christmas Day. The car was unloaded as we prepared to say our good-byes. By brother was busy playing with whatever. My sister, being older took it all in stride. Me, I came unglued. Do you ever remember crying when it seems like all of the air in your lungs just escapes you. Well, that was me. I couldn't understand. Why did we have to be back here? Why couldn't we stay with you? The questions poured out between heavy sobs. But to no avail. My mother got back into the taxi and the car pulled away from the curb.

(to be continued)