A Family To Call My Own

Alarm blaring in my ears, I slowly roll over and turn off my alarm clock. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stand up and start getting ready for what today will bring. I feel good today, like today could be one of the best days I have had in a while. Today I think I will get to join in on the family fun. For once, I won’t get stuck at the house alone. However, I know that  realistically it will probably be like every other day. I am just a foster kid that they are taking care of. They don’t spend any extra time with me or let me join in on family activities. But for some reason, today feels different. I am filled with hope that today will be good as I head towards the kitchen where everyone else is. 

“Good morning, Clarisa,” my foster mom says.

“Good morning,” I reply. 

“Today we are going to spend some time together in town as a family. I have errands to run and I thought I would make it a little family trip.”

“Do I get to come?”

“No, of course not. This is a family thing. You will stay here at the house.” 

“Oh, okay,” I say disappointingly. 

“Everyone is in the car waiting for me. I just wanted to let you know we were leaving. Behave yourself.”

She grabs her purse and then walks out the door immediately. Normally, she is a little more talkative and gives me a list of chores to do. I guess I should be grateful that she is letting me relax. I really wish that I was able to join them during their family adventures. They only have one kid, a five-year-old, so they should have plenty of room for me. At the moment I am their only foster kid, all of the other kids have found parents who wanted to adopt them. I have been with them for 6 months now. 

I am grateful to have a place to stay, but what I really long for is a family to call my own. I really miss the family that I had. When I was ten, my parents died in a car accident. For the last six years I have been placed in multiple foster homes. People are wanting to adopt younger kids, which is why I have not been adopted yet. It gets extremely lonely not having a family. 

I hear a car pull up into the driveway and the engine shuts off. They weren’t gone very long, I think to myself. A hard pounding comes from the front door. I peek through the window and see the very familiar face of my social worker waiting for me to open up the door. This is a pretty normal occurrence, except normally she comes by when everyone is home. She stops by often to check in on me and make sure that I am doing okay. I haven’t told her about how I am not invited to go out with the rest of the family. I have been moved around so many times that for once, I just want to be somewhere for longer than six months. I put a smile on my face and open the door. 

“Hello, Clarisa,” she says.

“Hey, Jane. I am the only one here right now. Do you want to wait for them to come back home? They went on some errands,” I say.

“I know. I have some bad news and some good news for you. What do you want first?”

“I will go get my stuff packed.”

It is a good thing I have learned that is a lot easier if I don’t keep much stuff that way it won’t take me very long to pack everything up. She puts her hand on my shoulder and nods in understanding. I could tell immediately that she was going to tell me that I am going to a new foster home and apparently, “This next one is a lot better than this one.” I have heard that statement so many times. So far, they haven’t gotten much better.

I grab my small photo album from the dresser and sit on my bed. I turn to the first photo and it is of me and my parents. This one is my favorite. It was taken a week before they died. In the picture, we are playing in the ocean. Our hair is all over the place and huge smiles are plastered all over our faces. It was by far my favorite memory of all of us together. The more I flip through the photo album, the more I long for that type of family again. I get to the last picture in the album, my favorite picture of my parents. As I took the picture they were sitting together and laughing. They look so happy and so in love with each other which is everything that I want. I set the album down with the rest of my stuff in a suitcase and head to my new home. 

“Jane, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why didn’t this family tell me that I was being moved?”

“They didn’t want to be the ones to tell you that they didn’t want you anymore,” she says, letting out a long drawn out sigh. 

“Oh.”

Nothing else was said on the way to my new foster home. We pull up to an upscale house with two lowered Maseratis. One of the Maseratis is a deep purple and the other one is a pearl white. It was easy to tell that this new foster family had some money. The family opens up the front door, excited to meet me. I slowly step outside and close the door. I hesitate a moment before following Jane to meet them. 

“Clarisa, this is your new foster family,” Jane says.

“Oh my gosh! I have always wanted a sister. My name is Sarah and we are the same age. This is my mom and dad, Jaqueline and John,” she exclaims as she runs over and hugs me tightly.

“We are ecstatic for you to join our family. Let us show you around,” Jaqueline says.

John grabs my suitcase and follows us inside. They give me a quick tour and then explain how they run things in their home. My bedroom is right next to Sarah’s and with my very own bathroom. They do something together as a family every weekend. I am encouraged to participate, but they won’t force me to. They seem very family orientated and loving. 

Giving me some time to unpack, I am left alone in my room. This will be the best family I have been put in. I set my photo album on my new dresser as a smile creeps on my face. I could be really happy here with this new great and loving family. This could be the family that I can call my own.