I longed for her to tell me everything would be alright. But it was never alright.
I was seven and playing on the street in front of the Lincoln Hotel, where my mom lived. A car pulled up and a couple got out, looking around, – all official and business-like. The woman waved me over. I remembered her from a couple of months earlier telling my mom she would be back for us. I was filled with fear and ran as fast as I could up the stairs. I was out of breath and crying when I banged on her door. I jumped into her arms and cried mommy she’s back! Temporarily, I felt safe.
Suddenly, all that changed when I found myself being pulled from her arms. When they came and got me, I held onto one of her sweaters. I would hold onto it for dear life and smell it wishing that she was there. I would wrap myself in it as if she was holding me. I could smell her scent which would comfort me and help me sleep. For many nights I held it and cried feeling hurt and alone. I was left wanting to be held and loved and needing my mom to come to take me away from my pain and fear. I longed for her to tell me everything would be alright. But it was never alright. She never came for me. Although she made an appearance from time to time and told me “I love you,” she always left.
My foster mother would eventually throw away my mother’s sweater which had become my security blanket. She told me my mom didn’t love me, which left me feeling lost, alone, hurting, and afraid. There was so much abuse. My brother was able to run away and a social worker moved me to a different family. To this day my brother, sister and I are no longer a family, even when we are under the same roof.
Only God knows my sister’s story and my mom has passed away. As for me, I have spent a lifetime in the system.
