Dear Diary,
I remember this was one day. Just like any other particular day, however, this day was a little different. As usual, our social worker came. I didn't understand what was happening, all I knew was that our social worker came and picked us up. We were placed in a van. Before we left, our foster family said their goodbyes, I remember the foster mother she gave us smiles and a gift for my brother and I. I remember she gave me a care bear, it was purple I remember I kept that bear for about three years until I was about eight years old. Saying our goodbyes to them was not hard at all. I don't know I guess deep down I knew they were not my birth family, so I never grew attached to them even though I was in that home for about a year. Maybe that was due to my brother and I being treated differently, as... as if we were not treated like we belonged there but none the less they were somewhat kind towards us even though we were treated differently than the other children.
Next thing I knew we were taken to an office, must of been the Child Protective Services office. As usual we saw our CPS worker, my brother and I must of been sitting there at least for a few hours because it was getting a bit dark. After a while this African American lady and a man, must of been her husband came to pick us up. My brother and I were placed in their van, during the car ride my brother and I watched a movie. They must of had one of those fancy expensive vans because it had a tv screen behind each seat. After a while we got to their home and I must say from I could recall it was a lovely home, it was a two story house. It had a stair case and from what I could recall they had luxurious decor in the home. I think one of the grandest gestures towards my brother and I was that we were given our own room, whereas before my brother and I were sleeping in the floor. I remember the Foster mother, although I don't recall her name, she treated my brother and I well. She was sweet and kind. One day, I remember it must have been someone's birthday. Either it was my brother Jr's birthday, my foster brother, or mine. From what I recall it was so much fun, there were other children with their parents and there was a jumper and a cake. One of the funny things that day was that I got a bloody nose, while jumping inside of the jumper I bumped into one of the other children and hit my nose. I remember I didn't cry or panic necessarily, I just got out of the jumper and my foster mother cleaned my nose and the rest of that day went good. We had a good time with that family.
I remember there was a day where we went to a baseball game that my foster brother was apart of. Then all of the sudden it was soon to be over. All those good memories with a new family just gone and no more.
There was one day I remember my brother and I were taken to the CPS office again. I wasn't sure the reasoning behind it, as always they did not explain to us young children the reasoning behind us being removed from the home we were currently living in. After a while my brother and I were brought out and taken to this man. At first my brother and I did not recognize him yet but I later realized he was our father, our birth father. It must of been the first time I saw him, in that moment I was not sure due to my young age of just being a five year old little girl and also because we were gone for such a long period of time. I just did not recognize him anymore. I might have seen him when I was much younger but I never recalled those first memories with him. When he first saw us he had a big smile on his face as if he was happy to see us. I remember feeling a bit unsure and somewhat confused but seeing him I felt an ease and comfort. He put us into his truck and drove us home where our mother was waiting for us. It was a small home, a trailer home. Even though it was smaller than the last foster home we were in, I could not have been happier to realize that we were returned in the custody of our birth parents. It was my brother Jr, my little brother Ananias, and I all back together again with our parents, but I never recalled those first memories with him but as that five year old little girl I could not have been happier to be at home with my parents along with my two little brothers.
YOU ARE READING
The Diary of An American Woman: (Memories of The Past)
Non-FictionThis is my very first book, it consists of my life memories. I'll be writing in first person. I will warn you this book may contain some trigger warnings due to some depictions of domestic violence, abuse, and neglect.
