memories

Eighteen Years Ago

You called me, and asked me to give you another chance. You said, you would call me when you got off work. Nine, ten, eleven twelve, and one came and went. I turned out all the lights in my apartment. I walked down the quiet, dark, hallway. I laid across my four-post bed. The black night, was a spotlight, on the white, cordless phone. I dialed up the story line, and played it over and over, hoping for the beep, letting me know, I had another call. And I would click over to my happiness. I don’t know, how long, I held on to the phone that night. I do know, how long, I have hung on to you.

I ran into you, a week ago today, since you left me hanging that night. Clearly, seeing you took me back like it was last night and here is MY story.

I was fresh out of high-school, a late bloomer to the core. It was the second time I kissed a boy, and the first time my body moved in ways I wasn’t quite familiar with. You wanted to take it a bit further, but I wasn’t ready. We were up all night long.We repeated the same scene the next night. In the morning I went home. You came by my house to tell me you were going back to the town. Witch was thirty-miles away. No, it was not far. But for a girl who only had her license for a few weeks, and her first car. I had never left town on my own. And, you had no car.

I lived with my parents, and worked at Subway. You called, around ten every night. I can’t for the life of me remember what we talked about. However, it was brief. My best friend  took me up to see you one Friday. When we got there you came running out. You had  black, shiny, straight hair. Your bangs brushed your eyelashes, your white pasty skin was a beautiful backdrop for your sky blue eyes and you kept  them open when you wrapped your arms around me, pressing your forehead against mine and whispering how you missed me.

We crammed into my friends Taurus and drove around the big city for a while. I cannot remember where we went, but I was on your lap the whole way. We played R. Kelley the whole time, you sang certain lyrics in my ear. The contact-high I was getting inside that car, made me feel like our lives together were the only ones on earth. I felt nothing, saw nothing, wanted to do nothing, except you.We got back to where you were staying, and my friend told me we had to leave. We went into the laundry-room and said our goodbyes. I can still see your smile, the way you stared right at me with your eyes, the way you ran your hand up in down my cheek and told me how nice it was to see me, you couldn’t wait to see me again.

I got home that night, and we talked briefly on the phone. I worked the rest of the week and you called every-night. We disgust me coming up on my own for the week-end. I was scared shitless, it was gutsy move, and my parents knew nothing about my planned get-a-way. You gave me directions. They must have been easy, because I made the drive. Until I got to your town and missed my turn. You seen me miss my turn and hopped in the car with your grandma. I looked up in my rearview, and you were running after me, waving, and chasing me down, like I was about to go off a cliff. I stopped my car, in the middle of the road and you told me to “scoot over I will drive”. We barely came up for air the whole time I was there. However, the conversation, you did bring up, was your time limit at your cousin’s house. You both had been staying with your cousins dad. He had given you BOTH a time-limit to get a job. If you could not find a job. You had to find somewhere else to live. We did go over a few places you could put your application in. I named a few fast-food places I seen on the way up to your house, you told me you had filled them out for those places I mentioned. When I got ready to leave my car wouldn’t start. We had to call my dad. When I told him where I was. He said  “find a way to get your ass home”. We looked at each-other and both decided I would stay one more night. The next day you got the car running and I went home.

The next night at work I never got your call. I did not think nothing of it, until the next night you didn’t call. After that, my chest felt like it was cut open, placed on the outside of my body, with someone tightly squeezing. The next few weeks went by, was like watching a movie in slow-motion. The reason, I did not call you at the time, is because it was long-distance. I was able, on my next day off to go over to a family members house of yours. They lived in the same town. We tried to call and only got a machine. She ended up getting a hold of me after a few days. She let me know you were staying with your sister. When I was able to get to a pay-phone you wasn’t there either.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wpkS2DU_qMs

“Like sands through an hour-glass, these are the days of our lives”

To Be Continued

 

 

 

 

 

Children · Family

Foster-Care

Recently On Life In My Tin Can I have written about conversations I have had with woman who were not ready for motherhood.

I believe some events in life set the sail for who we are and where were going.

I wrote this back in 2010 in a beginners writing class. I have been waiting to share it with you because I felt  you needed to see some of my backlog leading up to why I became a Foster-Parent. The teacher asked us to pick a paragraph out of the book we were reading “Dead End In Norvelt” and tie it in with our own life. I choose page 196 paragraph two.

 In such a fertile home devoted to beauty, love and understanding only one thing was missing-A child. My sister was a little too old for motherhood but in 1942 after the bombing of Pearl Harbor when Japanese Americans were being rounded up and sent to internment camps, a Japanese couple with a new baby arranged for their infant son to be adopted by my sister and her husband. This way the child would have a loving home and not have to be sent to prison camp and suffer the hardship and shame of that life. I remember that beautiful baby and the love my sister and her husband graced upon him. They had an angelic 6 months together until the federal government tracked that baby down and took him all because he was of Japanese origin An enemy of America in diapers.”

I can relate a bit to this part in the book because six or seven years ago I got my Foster Care license and fostered a little boy by the name of Jordan . He was around six weeks and weighed maybe a little over five pounds. I had only been a foster parent to one other little guy before Jordan his name was Thomas and I only had him for three or four weeks.

When I had gotten the call to see if I wanted an infant, I was so excited! Usually in foster care if you get a call for an infant seven times out of ten you will be able to adopt the child. So I made a few calls before picking him up. I called my mom for advice, did she think I was ready for this. I lined up a babysitter that I trusted for when I had to work. I wanted to be prepared.

When I went and got him at the State Office (DCFS) all by myself all he had with him was this plastic sack full of formula and diapers, and what looked like used stuff animals, and extra used clothing. I could not quit thinking of that plastic sack and how it spoke volumes of his abandonment and how very alone this child was. The things in that sack should have been his, picked out with him in mind new things to welcome him to a new place. He should not have to be checked out of a hospital into a state office, surrounded by strangers. In this moment I realized how sad I felt in a moment when I thought that I would only feel excitement. The fact that he didn’t realize any of this made the lump in my throat so much bigger.

At the time I did not have a child of my own, so this is the path I decided to take, because I so much wanted to be a mother. This is why, while in that state office I was so happy but so sad. Happy to have a baby to take care of but so sad about the cards he was dealt. I decided regardless of how scared I was to take him home, because of his medical history, addicted to crack and methadone, and born from an abruption because his mother decided she was going to do heroine one night which caused her to go into labor. I was just going to love him, spend my entire time holding, rocking, kissing and singing to him and I did throughout his entire detox, which would cause him to shiver and shake. I held him through two seizures. I took of work to stay and lay with him at the hospital. I just knew in my heart that love was the answer for him, and I gave him all of it for the six months that I spent with him.

Then the call came. There was a woman who wanted to step up and claim him. After the DNA testing was done she was his father’s mother. His grandmother had three of his brothers and she wanted him as well. I struggled with the fact that she decided to take him too. I felt that because she had three children already and because I didn’t have any; she should see that I would be the better choice for him. Why couldn’t she see that? Why was she so selfish? She had enough on her plate as it was with the three other boys, a full-time job, plus she was older and couldn’t keep up with his needs the way that I could. I know she felt that he should be there with her and with his brothers. They were his blood family.

Why is “flesh and blood” so important? Wouldn’t the whole process be much easier if they didn’t search for the “real” family? They could save a whole lot of time and money that way. Unfortunately children cannot just be distributed out to people just because they want a child so badly. I know morally that they shouldn’t be, but at the time those thoughts were a way that I could vent my frustration. If the world worked like that it would be better for people like me. In that fantasy, I found comfort.

The day they came to take him away, and drove away just like that, after all the heart that I put into this child, I cried in my mother’s arms like a baby. She just held me and let me cry, lost, powerless, helpless and empty, something you can’t feel unless you are there yourself. Children have a way no matter biological or not, if you let them in your heart you are never the same. The day he left I felt as if I gave him more than just a plastic sack. I gave him a stable place to live, a crib every night to sleep in, cloths that were fresh, food that was hot, and love to hopefully last that little guy a lifetime and with this said I too was also proud of what I gave him. Being a foster parent was bitter-sweet.

Home

The Oldsmobile

Childhood

Being  lean in money my dad bought a car to get him from “Point A to Point B”

The olds did just this for my dad

Today it holds a bittersweet memory

The car was a lighter brown and long like the long hours my dad worked to support his family on his own

There were four doors only three worked

A reminder of being the family of three we were

The driver side mirror was shattered spider webbed out where you could see my dads broken reflection

Symbolic to all the years he drove around single with a broken heart

The passage side door we all climbed in

Was heavy like the love that my brother and I carry for our hero of a dad

The brownish red interior of the car hung low

like the low times we were having in our lives

The smell of smoke

Fastfood

Filled the air

Like the love my dad poured out to and fro

To form a concrete foundation

To anchor down what we did have

The Car always moved

Slow at first

A reminder

That forward we go but slowly