“They’re not mine, well at least I don’t think so”. The baby girl barely old enough to walk, the boy just a year older, but wise beyond his years already. “Their Mother has run off and I've got three others to care for, I just can’t do it anymore”. He hastily scribbled his name and address on a crinkled receipt and handed it the woman at the church. There began their journey……both experiencing completely different lives, separate but still connected in a disjointed twist of fate…..both enduring their own pain, insecurities and traumas…….both surviving it all.
The road to a stable life was difficult at best, shuffled between temporary foster homes, each time being handed over to strangers whom you were told would take care of you. Some tried; others simply couldn't have given a shit about your well- being. Survival is the ultimate goal, don’t get attached.. not to anyone or anything at any cost.
The next time the man appears is in a court room before a judge…..”Do you relinquish your parental rights Sir?” The man lets out a long heavy audible sigh………”Well I never thought they were mine to begin with.” They say kids don’t understand what adults say at a young age……..I can tell you for a fact that isn’t true…..I can still hear those words ringing in my ears and the sound of a pen scribbling across crisp paper on a hard wooden table top. The words stinging like a final verbal slap in the face, one final attempt to add insult to injury. Couldn't you just pretend for thirty seconds that letting us go hurt you as much as it hurt us that you didn't want us?
And there began their journey………brother and sister by birth…..distant relatives by law……..never again the same.