I don’t remember much about my first summer in foster care, it was almost like a fleeting dream. But I do remember one thing: they considered me a problem child, not to be loved or cared for.
There was a black lady who I remember very faintly. She treated us as if we were not part of her family. She also said those exact words. We weren’t part of her family and will never be a part of one. Eventually, we were taken to a different foster home.
I remember thinking as I went from home to home: Why does no one love me? Why is this world so cruel? What did I do to deserve this? Why me?
When I was in foster care, I became very angry at “mom”, at the world, and at anything, I could think of. One of the few things that kept me calm and at peace was knowing that my brother and sister cared about me very deeply. To keep them around, I knew I had to behave, but it was very difficult. I found myself getting into a lot of trouble. Eventually, I found the one adult who believed in me.
Her name was Karen, and she wanted the best for me and my siblings. She was there for me like my mother should have been. She was my aunt that I never had. I know I broke her trust way too many times. I was too hurt to realize that she wanted the best for me. Eventually, Summertime ends, and thus begins a new chapter in my life.
