I am an only child. I have been since I can remember, really. Well, I do have a step-sister, but I’ve seen her like maybe 10 times, and she lives in California. Anyhow, I always wanted specifically an older brother. Since it was nearly impossible to just get one of those from my mom, she decided to the do the next best thing: take care of foster children.
Now, at the time, we were living in Granite Bay, California in a rather large house. My dad pretty much had no part in almost anything there (except gardening), because he worked in the Bay Area, about 120mi away, and spent his weeks staying at my Aunt’s house. Sure, he came back home for the 2-3 day weekends he had, but he affectively ignored the both my mother and I by spending most of his time gardening or working on various projects. I was pretty comfortable being there with my mom and only my mom.
At first, when the decision was made, all of us were pretty excited, my father included. Imagine having the chance to change someone’s horrible, forgotten life into something positive! We actively went to and participated in classes, including first aid, all of which were necessary and required by the State. I hung out with other little kids who were about to embark on the same journey of adding another small person to their family. I was so ecstatic, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t help thinking about this new person we were bringing into our lives. What would he or she be like? Would he or she be my age? Since most of the kids that are approved to be fostered are rather young, I resigned myself to the fact that I would most likely not get an older brother.
The day finally came when we were to see the child for ourselves. My mother, who filled out the forms on what kind of child she wanted (rather like ordering a steak from Swanson’s, really), pretty much checked everything. I was secretly praying for someone of different ethnicity, as at that time, hardly anyone I knew was anything other than white or Latino. I really can’t remember if I saw this child before it entered our home. Possibly not. I think my mom may have been actually hoping to eventually adopt one of these children we ended up fostering.
By the end of it all, it was the least on our minds.
**duh duh DUH** (insert cliffhanger ending here)
will be back with the stunning second part of this story tomorrow.
