Smart, Humble & Hungry

How many will I have?

You would think a poor little girl could have had a break after all of that. However with my Mother dead and my Father unknown, my sister’s father in the wind and my brother’s father locked up we went into foster care. I guess my Grandma didn’t meet some requirements to keep us; thankfully. Weird because it was the 90’s and almost anyone but a felon could get licensed. The first house had 3 other children. We lived in a closet basically that had bunk beds on each side. I fought with the lady about my brother, I refused to have him NOT next to me. I got many whoopings there and even kicked but I refused to give him up. NO one was going to hurt him and I meant that. I fed him, changed him, bathed him, rocked him and eventually that lady called and asked for different placements. My sister was mad. I guess she liked it there, oh well. 

The next place was worse; they didn’t care. I wanted to take care of my brother but what they did was practically starve us. I had to wait until they were asleep and I would dig in the trash for extra food. Those PB&J sandwiches with powdered milk didn’t do anything for us; especially my growing brother. They did let me take care of my brother but they smoked a lot, played cards, collected States money for us and really ignored us. I didn’t know how long we would last here. The food was little and I’d share mine with my siblings; I could take hunger pains. Even with trash diving every night it wasn’t enough but I eventually found ways to get more food. I’d help clean and get an extra piece of chicken or pork. I’d wrap in a napkin and put it in my pocket; I longed to sit at a table and eat (probably why I always have dinner at a table today, even if I’m alone) Weeks seemed like years. Until a new placement the case worker kept saying it’s getting hard to find placements for all of you but I’m trying. 

On to another house we went to. This house was a bit nicer and the lady seemed okay. She wanted me to show her how to take care of my brother, she brushed my and my sister’s hair at night. We even got to take long baths by ourselves with nice smelling soap. This was a nice place and I could see myself at the table. She made food, warm food for us and no trash diving or trade labor for me. I had barbie dolls, my brother had trucks and my sister had big girl stuff. 

We were there for about a month and then we went to some center and my Granny was there. She “cried” and said, “What happened to my babies. They need me” I rolled my eyes and held the lil man tight, I refused to trust her. What was her end game? It was just a visit however we went to another house, and another, and another. By the time my Granny got rights we’d been in 7 or 8 homes(in a year or a bit more) and they all mostly sucked except one. 

However nothing could set me up for what my own Grandmother would do to me; not us just me.