to my godparents

I was just 4 years old when I was living on the streets with my mother and two-year-old sister. I remember walking for hours in the dark street seeing nothing but street lights hundreds of feet away. People would think I was too young to understand but I knew exactly what was happening, there my mom was hopeless and alone, although she was never alone physically, I was always there; she never seemed to notice me. One day as we were near a freeway entrance this man pulled over on the side of the road and my mom so willingly and desperately wanting help got in the vehicle and put my sister and I in the back of the car. As time went on I remember this man being so mean to my mom, not just emotionally but physically; he was so mean when he drank. I remember running to my room as fast as I could, him chasing behind me, almost being able to grasp the doorknob, but he was too fast. I would shut my eyes and feel his belt and fist hit my body, skin, and bones, I was only 6. I was young but I was in a very dark place. I was scared of the man who was kind enough to let us in his home; as I thought; the streets didn't seem too bad. We were trapped, we had no way out and nowhere else to go, this went on for 3 years. I would see this man beat my mother on a daily basis; there was nothing I could do but hear her sobs and tell me “close the door and go to your room, mommy's okay” as blood would drip down her lip.Is this how a man was supposed to treat a woman? Is this what people did to show their love? We moved from house to house, my mom began “working” but I knew she wasn't actually at work, she would leave my sister and I with him, all alone. I was so angry with her, I would wait up all night and she would not come home, I remember crying thinking she would never return. At the time I knew she was hurting, but so was I; I wish she needed me as much as I needed her. We finally escaped this man and shortly after my mom found a new man who she seemed to like very much, but he changed her. The times I would see my mom I could barely recognize her, she didn't look like herself anymore, she turned to something that would make her feel better; her name was heroin. I'd come home from school and my mom would be passed out on the couch for hours… hours… I was raising myself and my sister alone. I was sad all the time. Our home had no electricity, running water, air conditioning, and barely any food in the fridge. At the time I wasn't living but surviving the chaos that was called childhood.One day two ladies knocked on the door and as I answered they talked to my sister and I about this cool place that was filled with lots of children, where you got to play and choose from all different kinds of toys. This place sounded like nothing I had ever experienced before, it was called Orangewood. I told the ladies I wanted to go, so they took us, and I never saw my mom again. In the beginning, I was so confused, I would ask when I would go back to my mom but, as time passed I understood that my mom was not capable of taking care of anyone, she could barely take care of herself. My sister and I went in and out of foster homes, some were good and some were not. I went to a home for 6 months and by the end of it I had lost so much weight, I remember being hungry all the time. This house was different, there were cages and locks on the kitchen cabinets and fridge, everything was childproof. I remember going to school and eating as much as I could because I knew there wouldn't be dinner at home. No one knew this was happening, at the time I thought this was normal and I had no say, after all, the lady was so kind to let us in her home. The lady would be really nice one day and give me a proper lunch and I didn't realize till now that she would only do that on the days the social worker would come to visit. When she would show up my stomach would be so full and I'd be contempt and happy and go on and on about how I liked living in that home, I was so innocent, just a child. One day I had a visitation and I remember seeing familiar faces, my godparents that I hadn't seen in years. That was the happiest day of my life, the day I found out they were going to adopt my sister and I. I remember them being good people, they never made me feel alone or scared, they never made me go hungry and they never hurt me. The dark place I was in seemed to not be so scary anymore, I finally got to do kid things and just be a kid. I was in a dark place for so long and I never thought how unfair it was, I thought every kid lived the way that I did. After all the suffering and pain I knew it was leading up to this very moment, I was saved. Eleven years later and I am still living happily under my godparent's roof, I have never felt more loved than I do now. They brought so much light into my world and for that, I am eternally grateful, if it wasn't for them, I probably wouldn't be here today, so to my godparents, thank you. Thank you for showing me what unconditional love is, thank you for showing me what a family is, and most importantly; thank you for never giving up on me.