“Don’t put that in your mouth, be nice to the dog, stop taking toys away from your sister, sit down please, what a great drawing you made.”
I am relieved to find, in the middle of my grief, that this wound is cleaner because I didn’t insist that he save me out of it.
“We all come to foster care with mixed emotions, histories, and motives. Please don’t forget that this story is not primarily about you.”
She is the cutest thing we’ve ever seen, and we treasure the days and all the times until she can transition to a birth family member.
When all the toys are boxed, the treasures of one person in a many-person household, who would think that what is left behind could be so big?
With friends and needy and grieving and isolated and savoring, I went creative: the paintbrush and the hammer and the string making patterns I could follow.
I imagine that, like me, you want an answer: something to eat or do or break or understand that will make the difference, make this bearable.
Did you hear we have a new placement? My goodness, I thought there would be more problems associated with something like this…
The hum of a white-noise fan upstairs
The purr of a lone car going by
The sound of my own cough
How do you work closely with people you distrust, for days and months on end? What if your generosity is enabling them to keep failing? Or, God forbid, to succeed?