770-333-9447
Chapter One
Christmas Day
Claudia
Claudia awakened to singing and music. Oh my gosh! How annoying! Who is that? What are they thinking? It's 7:00 in the morning, and… oh yeah, it's Christmas morning. I hate Christmas! Why does everyone make such a big deal out of it? Don't they know everybody doesn't care about it?
Last year at Christmas…hmmm where was I? Oh yeah, in that apartment. I hated that place. My mom had so many people in and out of that place all day and night and none of them were up to any good. She didn't even get out of bed on Christmas Day until she needed something to "help her through the day," and then she was up and out on the streets to see what she could find. Not even a "Merry Christmas Claudia." She just tripped and fell out the door… as usual. No presents, no food, no Ho Ho Ho. But, we did get a present for New Years - an eviction notice.
That music again! What are Ms. Kimie and Ms. Pat doing out there? Why can't I just pretend Christmas isn't here?! The last time I celebrated Christmas I was seven and my Grandma Dean gave me Oodles. And then a few weeks later Grandma Dean died and everything changed. I held on to Oodles. "Oh, Oodles, you're the best stuffed bunny a girl could ever have! We've been through a lot together and you're probably the only one who really knows all of it. Remember when I was 9 and we went to that church and sat in the back for two days over Christmas, so we didn't have to walk around in the rain? I kept telling everyone my mom was in the bathroom. Everything is my fault and I know my mom left because she hates me! She was always saying, 'If I didn't have you kids, I could've really been somebody.' And when I was eleven, remember we were living in that nasty motel and all Mom brought home for Christmas was a bottle of booze for herself? I was so mad at her!! But we did have a TV, and we watched old Christmas movies and cartoons all night. "We were so hungry, but at least we weren't bored."
"Merry Christmas, Claudia!" Ms. Kimie interrupts her thoughts from the other side of the bedroom door. "Come on out, it's Christmas morning and the other girls in Open Gate want to open presents!"
Presents? Here at CCYA? Who would know I am here? Who would give me presents? What kind of presents? What's going on?
Opening the door slowly, I step out of my room, amazed at the scene in the living room. All the other girls are opening stacks of gifts, trying on new clothes, sharing what they received - smiling and laughing. The laughter and Christmas music fill the room. Ms. Kimie is crying, and Ms. Pat is hugging everyone and saying, "We love you guys."
Then, I see my bag of wrapped gifts. One of the younger girls calls out to me, "Look, Claudia! Santa really did come! Look what he brought you!"
Confused, excited, surprised, and overwhelmed, I run over to Ms. Pat and Ms. Kimie, hugging them both and crying uncontrollably.
"I feel it! I really do! I feel Christmas!" I say in between sobs.
And, for the first time in too long, I let Christmas into my life and into my heart. But before opening my gifts, I race back to my room to get Oodles. Giving my best pink stuffed bunny friend a hug, I whisper, "Merry Christmas, Mama… wherever you are."
Chapter Two
Valentines Day
Abby
It was a sunny, but chilly, afternoon in February. Abby was walking home from Osborne High School when Isiah, a boy from her Chemistry class, caught up with her on the street. He offered to walk her home. Although flattered and truly excited by his attention, Abby's first thought was, oh no, I don't want him to know I live in a shelter home. So, walking past her street, she continued up to Austell Road, claiming she had to catch the bus to work. Isiah escorted her all the way to the bus stop and offered to wait for the bus with her. Starting to panic, Abby turned to him and said, "Oh no, I think I forgot my bus pass, so I may just have to go back to school." But, as the bus pulled up to the stop, Isiah reached into his pocket and offered her a five-dollar bill to pay the fare. Reluctantly, accepting the money, she thanked him and stepped on the bus, turning back shyly to wave goodbye!
Easing into a seat, Abby thought, what have I done? I have to get off this bus. It was about a mile down the road before she was able to get off the bus. Pulling up the collar on the new coat she got for Christmas, Abby thought about the kind family who gave it to her and made a mental note to send them a thank you card. She headed back on foot to the CCYA campus.
Embarrassed and upset, Abby went straight to the shower in Open Gate because that's really the only place to be alone when she's at "home." Later that evening, she called her two younger sisters who were living in separate foster homes. She promised to see them on Valentine's Day and bring them something special. Hmmm, she thought. What can I get for only $2.00? Valentine's Day is almost here.
The next morning, Abby woke up early for school still thinking about how she could buy presents for her little sisters. On her way to Chemistry class she ran into Isiah again. Feeling nervous, she tried to avoid talking to him, but he followed her to class.
"I was wondering if you want to go to the Winter Dance with me on Friday?" he asked.
Wow, Abby couldn't believe he asked her - she really wanted to scream, "YES!" But instead, she responded, "I'm sorry, I'm way too busy this weekend. My family needs me to do some things with them." She turned and walked off quickly.
After school, Abby talked to some of the Open Gate staff to see if there was something she could do to earn some money to buy her sisters some Valentines Gifts. "They would just love those little hearts with the sayings like Luv You and Be Mine," she said. "And, my littlest sister would love a red heart-shaped sucker."
In the afternoon, Ms. Nekisha told Abby that she could earn a Target Gift Card if she wanted to do some chores around campus.
"That would be amazing! Thank you so much," Abby said, and immediately asked, "When can I start?"
That evening, Abby cleaned out the kitchen cabinets, unloaded the dishwasher, reorganized the supply closet, and vacuumed & dusted the common areas of Open Gate. The next afternoon she helped unload donations from a donor's car and made some thank you cards in the Development Office. By February 13th, she had earned a $15 Target Gift Card. Staff took her shopping for Valentine cards and treats. She even bought matching nightgowns on clearance for each sister. She couldn't wait for the court-ordered visitation with them the next day, which was Valentine's Day. Celebrating holidays and giving gifts was not really something her family ever did when she was young. Abby was thrilled that she could do this for her sisters. She knew how much it would mean to them.
Walking home from school on Valentine's Day, Isiah caught up with her again on Favor Road.
"Hey Abby, wait up I have something for you," he called out to her.
"I can't. I have to go. I'm really late," she called over her shoulder - worried that if she turned all the way around she wouldn't be able to resist that big grin of his.
"Abby, it's just a silly Valentine - but I got it for you," he said, holding out the cutest little stuffed bear wrapped around a heart- shaped box of Hershey's kisses.
OMG! Really? She thought. This totally cute boy is standing here giving me a Valentine's gift? I can't believe it! But again, too scared to get too close, she snapped, "Are you some kind of stalker? It's really stupid to give something to somebody you don't even know. I mean, what makes you think I would like that silly little bear anyway?"
Hurt by her rejection, Isiah was about to turn around and walk away when he saw her eyes tear up.
"I guess I wasn't thinking about what you would like," he said. "I was just thinking this sad little bear would really like you and he could really use a home, no matter where you live, because you would take care of him."
"What do you mean no matter where I live?" she asked.
"Abby, I know you live in that shelter home around the corner," he said cautiously. "Is that why you won't go to the dance with me? Because you think I don't know where you live, or are you really just too embarrassed to be my date?"
Taken completely off guard, Abby took a deep breath and said, "I didn't want you to know. I thought you would be too embarrassed of me."
"Now look who's being stupid." he grinned. "So, I guess that means they don't have any mirrors where you live because clearly you have never seen yourself?"
"Gimme that sad bear," Abby said, now blushing, laughing and crying, all at the same time.
"So… what about the dance, will they let you come with me?" Isiah asked.
"Yes, I think I can work it out" she said, feeling relieved. "But, I have to meet you at the dance, is that ok?"
"Whatever it takes," he said with that big grin of his.
Realizing the time, Abby said a quick but sweet "bye" and raced back to CCYA to get ready for the visit with her sisters. She could hardly contain herself when the transporter arrived and brought the girls into Open Gate. She held the gifts out for her sisters and exclaimed, "Happy Valentine's Day!" They loved the candy, the cards, and the matching night gowns - both trying them on over their clothes and wishing they could have a sleepover together.
As the visit came to an end, Abby hugged and kissed her sisters making sure they felt truly loved. The youngest said, holding her hand up high, "This red heart sucker, it's my favorite!"
Before going to bed, Abby wrote in her journal:
Today is Valentine's Day and I got to be a really good big sister.
I feel proud of myself. My heart is so full of hope and love tonight.
I have been worrying that I had no love left in me because of all the things that have happened to me and all the people who have left me. But maybe that's not true anymore. I still have my sisters. And now, there is Isiah and this sad little bear who clearly needs me. I can't believe I said "yes" to going to the dance with him - Am I really feeling this happy? YES! I am…. Happy Valentine's Day to me!
Chapter Three
The Easter Egg Hunt
Zach
MARCH 16. The day my father, Daemon, was arrested for armed robbery. I was 15 years old, and I can honestly say that at the time, I had absolutely no feelings about his arrest one way or another. My uncle said, "Boy, I guess you are really mad about what happened to your dad." My friends said, "That's lit! Now that savage can rot in jail." I was just numb to all of it. I had been numb for several years.
"Dae" is what everyone calls my father. It's what I call my father. I called my mother "Trish." She died when I was seven, and as much as I wish I could say that it mattered to me, it didn't. She was a miserable, mean, uncaring woman who never loved me. Dae told everyone it was cancer but I don't think it was. I think she drank herself to death. But, Dae has always been a liar, a stealer and a hustler, since long before I was born. He prides himself on being a "tough-guy" and a "wise-guy." When I was five, he called me a "sissy" because I cried when he broke my arm. I had spilled cereal on the sofa. He grabbed me by my radius bone and jerked me up and my arm snapped in two. When he told his posse that he broke my arm, he said it like he had just slayed a bear!
Growing up, I believed everything that Dae said to me. His favorites were: "Toughen up and act like a man. . . Go ahead crybaby show us how you cry. . . You are the biggest waste of time in my life," and, when describing me to his posse, "Meet the greatest mistake ever made!"
When I was six years old, Dae and Trish got in trouble because I had never been to school. Dae told social services that we were new to the area and I had been in school where we lived before. Such a liar. So, I went to school and it was really confusing. But, it was a lot better than staying home with Dae and Trish. The first week, my teacher said we were having an Easter Egg Hunt at the end of the week. She told the class to each bring in 12 plastic eggs and a signed permission slip to participate. Trish laughed and said, "We don't DO Easter, but you can take a few real eggs." Dae said, "Egg hunts are for little boys that wanna be girls" and a few other unrepeatable names. He told me, "If you do that egg hunt you will be beaten down by me!"
I didn't even know what an egg hunt was, so the next day I took four uncooked eggs to school and my teacher said "oh my" and put them in the cabinet. That Friday, I told the teacher I wasn't doing any dumb old egg hunt and used one of the unrepeatable names that Dae taught me. I was suspended from school. Dae and Trish were happy about it, and we moved before the suspension ended. I never went back to that school or any other school again, until I was eight years old.
So, at age 15, when Dae was arrested, he went in a police car to jail and I went in a police car to social services. That same night, I came to CCYA and cried myself to sleep. I could hear Dae in my head laughing and saying, "Go ahead crybaby, show us how you cry." I hated Dae. I hated Trish. I hated myself.
When I woke up on my first morning at CCYA, it was late and most of the other kids were in school. Mr. Lewis asked if I wanted some breakfast and he talked to me the whole time I was eating. I was studying Mr. Lewis while he talked. He appeared so big and strong. "A real tough-guy," is what Dae would say. I was just waiting for Mr. Lewis to tell me to "toughen up" and "act like a man." I was so certain that he knew I had been crying all night. You see, no matter how hard Dae tried, I was just weak. Really weak. I hated myself for it.
I had breakfast with Mr. Lewis every day that week and he never told me to "act like a man." Surprisingly, I learned in a few short days that Mr. Lewis is the softest tough-guy I have ever met. Sometimes, when he was talking to me, I would just sit and wonder what Dae would think about him. Dae would hate that he's soft and even more, he would hate the way Mr. Lewis talks to me. I definitely think I like Mr. Lewis, even if he is a little soft.
One afternoon when the other kids came back from school, Ms. Kimie was hanging up signs about an up-coming Easter Egg Hunt. I told one of the younger boys, "Easter egg hunts are for little boys that wanna be girls." The next day, I guess someone told Mr. Lewis what I had said. He asked, "Zach, why don't you like egg hunts?" I thought, What? I had never really done an egg hunt, so who says I don't like them? Even if real men don't hunt for eggs, but just buy them at the store. I wasn't even sure why little girls would want to hunt for eggs. I really couldn't answer his question, so I didn't. But it wasn't like Mr. Lewis was mad at me, it was more like he was just curious. But still, I didn't have an answer.
Later that night, my roommate filled me in on the egg hunt. He explained that every year CCYA kids go to Mr. & Ms. Bechtel's house and celebrate Easter. There's a lot of really good food, everything is very fancy and some of the kids dye Easter Eggs. Then, he told me about the big egg hunt in the woods next to their house. He said it's a lot of fun because the eggs have candy in them (the good kind!) and some eggs have money. He said his eggs had over $16 in them last year. I didn't want to admit it, but I was curious about this egg hunt idea. How bad could it be if there was free money? That night I went to bed and wondered, what would Dae say if he knew that egg hunts have free money? There's no way he knows that. Dae loves free money. Maybe he has never been to an egg hunt either. He is such a liar. I decided to go to the egg hunt.
When we arrived at the Bechtel's house, everyone was super excited. But not me. Curious? Yes. But excited? Not yet. There were a lot of women from a group called The Circle for Children. The kids called them "The Circle Ladies." My plan was to hang back and not really talk to anyone. I was just there to check out this egg hunt thing and win some money. What I didn't know is that The Circle Ladies were not going to let me do that. They wanted to meet me and talk to me and feed me. I think an hour passed before I realized that I was having a great time and I didn't really care if I won any money. The food was the best I've ever had. The decorations were LIT! I was trying to act like I wasn't looking at them, but the painted eggs, which I later learned were "dyed," were beautiful. I had never seen anything like them before. One of the Circle Ladies told me they were hard-boiled eggs and she showed me how to decorate them.
When it was time for the egg hunt, I got really nervous. I spent the whole day not thinking about Dae, not even once. But, when they announced the egg hunt, I heard Dae in my head again, "Egg hunts are for little boys that wanna be girls." I felt ashamed. Ashamed that I had told that younger boy the same thing the other night. I didn't want to be like Dae. So, I went to find that kid and he was so excited and jumping around like an Easter bunny. "Hey," I said, "tell me how this thing works. How do you win?" He laughed and said, "You just try to find the most eggs." A few minutes later, I had a basket in my hand and we were all racing into the woods.
There were colored eggs everywhere. I picked up the first egg and laughed. It was indeed a "plastic egg" and I had taken those real eggs to school. I get it now! And, I did. I found a ton of them filled with candy and a total of $11! It was the bomb! Just a bunch of big kids scrambling to pick up the most eggs. We were laughing and falling, and fake fighting for the eggs. Then we were counting and comparing, and fake stealing from each other - all in fun! The Circle Ladies and CCYA staff all wanted to know what I had found, and even the men who were staff and Circle husbands thought it was dope! For the first time, it didn't matter to me what Dae would think. He is such a liar anyway.
On Monday morning, I couldn't wait to have breakfast with Mr. Lewis. I was awake and dressed and in the dining hall with a bag full of eggs. The first thing he asked was, "How was the egg hunt?" So, I told him all about it.
That night, I decided not to think about Dae at all. I decided to think about Mr. Lewis and all of The Circle Ladies. I decided that someday when I have a son, I will take him to an egg hunt and we will laugh and fake steal each other's eggs. But for now, I will just count my eggs, my money, and my blessings!
Chapter Four
Graduation Day
Owen
I am so proud. I will be the first in my family to graduate high school. The school gave me four tickets to the graduation ceremony to share with my family. I live at CCYA, but I still want my mother to come see me graduate. I called her on the phone, "Hey mom, it's me. I am graduating from high school next week and I really want you to come."
"Where is it?" she asked.
"It's at Turner Chapel AME, just down the street from DFCS," I told her - holding my breath that she would WANT to come. "I will give you the address."
"I don't think I can make it," She said, sounding distracted and disinterested. I know that response. She is not going to do this for me, I just knew it.
"But mom, its graduation, what else are you going to be doing? Can't you just do this one thing for me, just this one time? Everybody will have their families there. For me… please," I begged.
"I don't know, Owen. Maybe. Call me tomorrow, I've got to go."
She hung up the phone. That's my mom. She can't do anything for anybody who is not helping her get high. After the meth house raid, where she got arrested, my sister and I came to live at CCYA. I was just 14 years old and I remember saying when I got to CCYA, "This is a mistake, I'll be going home tomorrow."
The problem was that I knew it wasn't a mistake, and I knew I had no home to go to.
You see, my mom has always used drugs. When I first came to CCYA, Ms. Kim asked me, "Do you remember a time when your mom wasn't using drugs?" and honestly, I could not. But even though she has always used, it got a lot worse with this last boyfriend who got her hooked, on methamphetamine. The "meth" changed everything, and it was like her body was there, but she disappeared from it. At least she used to feel bad when she got high or when we got evicted or when she couldn't buy us food. But, on the meth, she wasn't even sorry anymore.
That's why, when I called her back about graduation, she totally surprised me and said that if I could give her two tickets then she would have her boyfriend bring her. Well, I figured at least she was coming. Now, all I had to do was make sure that I looked really good for this epic moment in our family history. I knew that no matter what, this time my mom was going to be proud of me and she was going to cherish this moment of seeing her son walk across that stage to receive his diploma.
On graduation day, I was nervous and very proud. I kept thinking over and over in my head that I'm the first in my family to get a high school diploma. I lined up with friends outside the church and the music started. What is it about that Pomp and Circumstance song that just gets you all emotional? I was choked up before I even walked into the ceremony. I held my head high to carefully balance my graduation cap. I felt important and accomplished wearing my school colors and I could see the tassel dangling in my peripheral vision. It struck me that this would become one of those important moments that I would remember for a lifetime.
Throughout the ceremony, I kept looking out into the audience trying to find my mom, but instead, I saw Ms. Kim, Ms. Kimie, Mr. Lewis and several CCYA staff. They were waving, taking pictures, blowing kisses, and making "I love you" sign language for me and the other CCYA graduates. I still didn't see my mom anywhere, but there were a lot of people in the church. Maybe, she was up in the balcony seats. I really couldn't see up there very well. If I tipped my head back too far to get a glimpse, my cap would have certainly fallen off.
After the graduation, all my classmates were taking pictures with their families and making celebration plans for dinners and parties. Fathers were saying, "Son, I'm so proud of you." Mothers were crying, kissing and saying, "I love you so much." Grandparents were hugging and slipping envelopes of money into graduates' pockets. Even younger brothers and sisters were smiling and giving congratulatory fist bumps and arm punches.
Standing outside the church, I was looking around and waiting for my mom to proudly congratulate me. I was hoping she would take me in her arms and hug me tightly while whispering something encouraging in my ear; maybe even say she was sorry for everything. But, despite her accepting my invitation, she wasn't there. I was just standing there all by myself, not sure what to do or how to feel. I saw Ms. Kim nearby and I think she was silently praying that my mom would magically appear for me. But, just like all the other times, she didn't.
Finally, Ms. Kim came up to me and hugged me. She said all the things a mother should say to her graduate son. She put her hand on my cheek and said, "I'm proud of you. You are still the first in your family and one day you will be there for your son or daughter and tell them that they are the second in the family."
What Ms. Kim said was helpful, it really was. But I am so angry at my mother and myself. Why did I believe a mother who never follows through? When the court told her to complete a drug treatment program, so we could go home with her, she didn't. When they told her to get a job or at least show she was looking for one, she didn't. When they said she needed to get stable housing, she didn't. For all these years, I have been waiting for her to prove that she wanted me, but she never has. Why did I think she would be here for me today? And, what really hurts is that I know EXACTLY where she was and EXACTLY what she has chosen over me.
Ms. Kim told me it's probably hard for my mom because I have now surpassed her by being the first to graduate high school. But, I know Ms. Kim is just being nice because a mother is supposed to want more for her kids than herself. But not mine. What kind of a mother would ruin her son's graduation day by not even showing up? Well, no way, she is not ruining my graduation day because I won't let her.
"Ok, Ms. Kim," I said. "What's the plan now?"
"We're going out to dinner," she said. "My husband and my daughter are meeting us, and we are taking you and any other CCYA grads who have no plans out for a celebration dinner, and then afterwards, if you want, you can catch up with your friends."
"Great!" I replied, "Let's go!"
The week after Owen's graduation, he wrote a note:
Dear Ms. Kim,
I want to thank you for all that you and CCYA have done for me over the past 4 years. I know that in order for a parent or caregiver, like CCYA, to be proud of me, I have to keep doing things to make you proud. My high school graduation is just the start. I have learned so much from all of you and most of all I have learned that my family history does not limit or define me. Although it is heartbreaking that my mother does not even care enough to see me graduate, it means everything to me that all of you at CCYA do care. Thank you for always being there. Thank you for the fun dinner. You and your family made me feel very loved and very special. Also, thanks for coming to my Junior ROTC Awards night last week. I love you and I plan to keep making you all proud of me.
Love Always,
Owen
Happy Graduation Owen! You did it - First in your family.
We are all so very proud of you!
Chapter Five
Independence Day
Destiny
I was born at Grady Hospital on the 4th of July, sometime in the late afternoon. My mother named me Destiny, but never told me why. I don't know if there were any fireworks or barbeques on that day, but my mother used to tell me that I "share a birthday with the good ole USA." It is one of the few things that I can remember her saying when I was young, and it made my birthdate feel special.
At age 10, my mother sold me and my younger sister to a man on a bus for $50.00. Wendall is the man who bought us. My mother had rented us to other men before, but this time she sold us to Wendall for good. Being a prostitute and drug addict, I guess my mother just couldn't take care of us anymore. Wendall took us to live in his apartment where he rented us out to all kinds of creepy guys - old and young. Although we tried to run away a few times, we honestly had nowhere to go, and Wendall could be a pretty scary man when we disobeyed him.
Just after my 12th birthday, Wendall was shot and killed outside our apartment building. After that, Wendall's cousin, Gerald, took over his business and stayed in the apartment with us. Gerald drank a lot and was not a good business man. This was good in one way, because we didn't have to work as much. But, in another way it was not good because Gerald wasn't getting us the food, toilet paper, and clothes that we needed. He also didn't always keep the lights, heat and water turned on in the apartment.
About a year and a half later, when I was 13, Gerald was arrested for robbing a gas station. His picture was taken on the security camera and it didn't take long for the police to come for him. They captured Gerald after a stand-off in our apartment. The police seemed very surprised to find my sister and I living there. It was the first time we ever told anyone about our mom selling us on the bus and how Wendall and Gerald were renting us out. I was sitting in an office, at a big table, when they told me that Gerald was going to jail for more than just the gas station robbery.
I remember different people asking us: How long had we been "kidnapped" by Wendall and Gerald? How long had we been living "like this?" and Why didn't we try to run away and "save ourselves?" But the truth be told, there was no beginning to our bad story. There was never a time that was "better" and never a time that was "worse." Looking back, I didn't even know that I was "happy" to be "rescued." I didn't know what happiness was, and the only thing that I had ever "hoped" for was a meal, a bath, a bar of soap, and some toilet paper. When I had these things, I guess I thought I was "happy."
So, it seems my "bad story" began the day I was born - ironically, on the 4th of July. And, it ended when I came to live at CCYA. Not that I don't struggle now. Actually, I struggle a lot. I mean, I had never been to school before and that is a struggle. Getting up early in the morning and going to bed before 11 at night is a struggle. Reading, spelling, writing and math is a struggle. Having staff tell me what to do, and when to do it is a struggle. Cleaning my room and doing my laundry is a struggle. Even talking to people that I don't know is a struggle.
Sometimes volunteers come to The Center, and they are so nice that I don't trust them. I am always wondering what they really want from me. Getting in the van is a struggle because we never drove anywhere before. I was scared to go to the doctor and the dentist because it was all new, and I needed a few root canals. Somedays, I am worried that I cannot live like other people and that makes me feel really messed up. But other days, I get up, take a shower, eat breakfast, make jokes with staff on the way to school, take a test that I don't fail, get shy talking to a nice boy, gossip about it with my girlfriends, walk to the store after school for some hot Cheetos, finish tutoring, and curl up on the sofa with my sister in our pajama pants and watch TV.
It's on these days, that I hope for a better future and more good things to happen for me and my sister.
Most of all, the fourth of July - my birthday - is now my Independence Day too. For me, just being born in America was not a guarantee for my freedom. But now, I am free. I am grateful for the police and social workers who rescued us, and grateful to my CCYA family who are helping us to improve our lives. I now believe that I was named Destiny because my future is destined to be better than my past.
May this 4th of July bring independence and hope to all.
Happy Birthday to me and America!
Chapter Six
Back to School
Darnell
FIVE DAYS. School starts again in five days. Not my favorite time of year. Why do you think that adults always ask kids the week before school starts, "Are you ready to go back to school?" When I say "nope" they seem so disappointed. But, when other kids say, "I love school, I can't wait to go back," the adults proudly respond, "Good for you!"
I mean, when you ask an adult who is on vacation, "Are you ready to go back to work?" Do they answer, "I love work, I can't wait to leave this beach and go back to the office." Probably not. Why is it different for kids? Well, now I just answer, "I don't know," which seems to disappoint them less.
At CCYA, "school" is definitely the most important thing to the staff. If you are "killin' it" in school, the staff make a big deal about you. But, it's harder for someone like me. They want me to do tutoring every day after school, graduate with a high school diploma, and go on to college or vocational school. I am frustrated with all of it. I don't read or write well. Math is my worst subject, except for Science, which is more complicated. History is boring. And, even PE is humiliating, no matter who you are. No one in my family is educated and no one cares if I am. We all just make our own way.
FIVE DAYS. That's all I have and then I will have to start finding ways to skip classes, fake a sick day, or get into so much trouble that I get suspended. It's just better for everyone to think that I have bad behavior than to know that I am really just stupid in school. I don't know who invented grades, but I am sure it was someone who always got "A's."
The Friday before school starts, I hear that we are having an annual banquet called THE BEST IS YET TO COME. Some of the kids who have been at CCYA for a while say it's a lot of fun. But, it sounds stupid to me. Some of the kids are getting trophies and medals for the good things they have done. I have seen their awards from last year and I think they are stupid. It's very clear that I won't be getting anything. I have never gotten an award in my life, and I don't really care about ever getting one. I don't want to go to the lunch, but staff tell me it is mandatory - Are you kidding me? I decide to write Ms. Borna a note asking her to let me stay back that day. She tells me that she really wants me to go.
On the day of the banquet, I am forced to dress in a shirt and tie. I have to wear a pair of donated dress shoes and khaki old-man pants. It's August in Georgia, who is wearing pants in 100-degree weather? A bunch of old men, that's who. First, I get into an argument with staff about wearing the clothes, and I then I flat out refuse to tuck in my shirt. I'm not interested in dressing up to go watch a bunch of other kids get stupid awards. But, once I am dressed, even I have to admit, I look nice, maybe even handsome. So, I tuck in my shirt and wink at myself in the mirror.
When we arrive at the lunch, it's kind of fancy. Walking into the room all dressed up, I admit, I feel kind of proud of how I look. All of the women are telling me how nice I look, and some of the girls are flirting with me. But most surprising, are the four awards that I win - two trophies and two medals. I get an award for Music Therapy and learning to play the guitar; an award for cooking classes; an award for Rocket Club; and a Campus Community Helper award from Mr. Brown. I was not expecting to get anything and even though cooking classes were not my favorite, I did enjoy the meals we ate - so I went to every class. I thought that I only helped Mr. Brown when I was in trouble. But, giving me the award, he said, "Darnell is reliable, dependable, and helpful and I really appreciate the work he has done." I couldn't believe it. I haven't been praised a lot in my life, but I have NEVER been praised in front of a room full of people. It actually makes me feel "proud" of myself and not just for how I look in my tie, but a different kind of proud - more for who I am.
Like me, the other kids are also really excited. We are so amped up when they announce the Resident of the Year Award that we start screaming and jumping on the winner. I am truly happy for someone else winning something. Maybe it's because I have my own awards, and maybe it's because I am just happy. A lot of unexpected things have happened to me at the banquet - things I don't want to forget. I think it is the first time I have really ever felt a part of something good.
FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. I wake up, get dressed, and smile as I look over at my trophies and medals on the dresser. I leave for school with a plan to skip class only if things get rough. I walk into math class and the teacher is saying, "None of you want to learn. None of you care about your futures. None of you deserve to be in my class." She scowls at us, more like it's the last day of the school year, instead of the first and says, "but I am here to teach you whether you like it or not." So, I TUNE OUT.
When the bell rings, I decide to go to science class, but only to get a friend to skip class with me. As I walk in, I don't recognize anyone. The science teacher is new. "Welcome to Science," he greets me. "Please, take a seat." I hesitate, but he smiles and guides me quickly to a seat. As I am TUNING OUT, he says, "Did you know that your brain is a scientific miracle sponge? It wants to absorb as much knowledge as it can. Nobody's brain is bigger, nobody's brain is better, and nobody's brain is smarter than anyone else's. Some people just seek more knowledge to absorb than others. So, it's going to be up to you to decide how much knowledge your brain will absorb in my class. I am here to give you as much as you want to soak up." Then the teacher points to me saying, "Tell me something interesting about yourself or something fun you did this summer." I TUNE BACK IN. Nervously I say, "I won four awards at a banquet this summer." The teacher smiles. I think it is APPROVAL. I don't know why, but I care. I do. It feels really good.
A week later, I get an 88% on my first science quiz. That's a first for me. But I still fail my first math quiz. My tutor says, "Celebrate the victory!" We will keep working on the math.
I'm still not the best student, but I am starting to think differently about school and my own "smartness." Getting awards and doing well on a quiz are new for me. I'm not sure why things are changing for me, but they are. I want to get more awards at the next banquet, and my teacher says maybe I need to think about a career in science. It's definitely something new to think about.
But, when adults ask me over fall break if I am ready to go back to school, I think I will still say "nope." However, maybe, just maybe, because of my science teacher, I won't mind the question so much.
Welcome Back to School! Are you ready? I am.
Chapter Seven
Happy Birthday
Teisha
I am the invisible nobody. When you are homeless, people either ignore you like you're invisible and don't exist, or they stare at you and think you are nobody. People who think I am an invisible nobody assume that I am lazy and illiterate, but that's not me. People think I am on drugs or a thief, but that's not me. People think I ran away from good parents that I didn't respect, simply refusing to follow their rules, but that's not me either.
One time, a lady asked me, "Why do you want to be homeless? Why don't you just go home or go to a shelter, or at least get a job?"
I am 17 years old and I am homeless because my father died and my mother suffers from mental illness. She is always in and out of institutions or living on and off the streets. I don't know any other living relatives on my mom's side, and I never knew my dad or his family. It's hard to get a job without a fixed address, email address, computer access, work experience, or education. It's hard to go to school without a parent to enroll you, a shower to bathe in, clean clothes to wear, or a safe place to sleep. There aren't a lot of foster homes for 17-year-olds especially if you are used to taking care of yourself in the only way that you know how. And, if there aren't any shelter or group home beds available, then you can get put into juvenile detention until a bed opens. So, I have wanted to avoid that option and instead, stayed the invisible nobody.
But then, a few weeks ago, I came to CCYA. It's really hard to be invisible OR a nobody here. Everyone sees me… sometimes too much.
"Hey, Teisha," says my Life Works roommate. Her name is Delia. "What are you doing Friday night? You want to see if we can go to a movie or maybe walk around the mall?"
"Sure," I reply. "Do you have a bus pass?"
"We can get one," she answers.
Friday morning, when Delia opens our bedroom door, she walks right into a bunch of balloons tied to the door handle. There is a sign on the door that she reads out loud, "Happy Birthday Teisha!" Two of the Balloons are large gold-shaped numbers, "1" and "8," reminding me that I am 18 today.
"Is this for real Teisha, today is your birthday? Girl, why didn't you say anything?" exclaims Delia.
"Wow," I reply. "Those are really big number balloons. Yes, it's my birthday but it's not a big deal or anything." I turn away hoping Delia won't see my eyes watering up or how surprisingly emotional I am getting about the balloons and someone remembering my birthday. "It's not that I forgot," I say, "It's just that no one ever does anything for my birthday, so I don't really think much about it."
"Well, that is not the case now," says Delia excitedly. "We have to celebrate, tonight for sure! We are going to the movies, and I am treating you for popcorn AND candy!"
The last birthday I celebrated was never. Growing up with a mentally ill mother meant no birthday parties, no presents and no decorated cake, ever. Even when I lived with my Aunt Darlene from age two to nine, we only celebrated her birthday. The only reason I even know my birthdate is because I carry my birth certificate with me. After my mother left me alone for several days, when I was only two years old, the Department of Family & Children Services (DFCS) sent me to live with my Aunt Darlene. She didn't really want to take care of me. Darlene had a lot of boyfriends and she did a lot of drugs and partying. She was a lot younger than my mom. I guess she tried to take care of me, because I was with her for seven years. She even adopted me when I was three years old and DFCS closed my case. When I started the fourth grade, Darlene gave me back to my mother. She said her life didn't really work with a kid and that my real mom needed to take care of me. That's when I started taking care of myself. But then, at age 10, I was taken from my mother by DFCS again and moved around in foster families and group homes. That's when I started running. I ran from every place they put me. I would run away and sleep on the streets, in abandoned buildings, in a park, or even the woods. That's also when I became the invisible nobody.
Because I have missed so much school over the years, I am now in the CCYA Home School GED program. Secretly, I am really happy to be in it. I never thought I would graduate high school and since starting GED classes, I think I can really graduate. After class, I go back to my room to read and wait for Delia to get home from Osborne High School. Delia is the first friend I have had since elementary school - I mean she is really the first person that I have talked to and liked being around since I was 10 years old. There is no way to not befriend Delia. She is loud and funny and loves to dress up and wear make-up. I act like I am annoyed by her fashion and beauty habits, but truthfully, I admire her style. Living on the streets, I haven't always wanted to draw attention to myself, and I haven't had the soap, shampoo, and supplies that I have here at CCYA. I decide to stop reading and get dressed for the movies. I even put on some make-up. When I walk out into the common area, several staff wish me a Happy Birthday. It's hard not to smile, but I am fighting it.
Delia comes home from school at 4:30 and she starts playing music in the room and getting ready. Then we go into the dining hall to grab a bite before the movie and there, sitting on the table is a beautiful cake with yellow flowers. On the cake there is a message: "Happy Birthday Teisha." As they walk in the dining hall, some of the other residents are wishing me a Happy Birthday and commenting on the cake. I just keep staring at it. Another resident says he likes chocolate cake and hopes it is chocolate. I don't care what flavor it is. This is my first birthday cake ever and I think it is beautiful and perfect! Delia takes a picture of it with her phone. After we eat meatloaf and mashed potatoes, the staff light candles on the cake and everyone sings Happy Birthday to me. I am so in my head right now and so everything is a blur - I am just focused on this cake and what it feels like to have people celebrate my birthday. I am dizzy, and my eyes are starting to water up. Everyone is shouting to blow out the candles and I am not doing a good job of it so Delia leans over to help. We are laughing, and the cake is being cut and I am so . . . dizzy. The staff tell me that any leftover cake is mine and that I can keep it in the fridge, so I keep three small pieces for later.
Delia and I head out to the movies to see The Dark Tower. In the movie, Roland is the last Gunslinger and he is locked in an eternal battle with Walter played by Matthew McConaughey, who is called the Man in Black. The Gunslinger must prevent the Man in Black from destroying the Dark Tower which is holding the universe together. In the end, the movie features the ultimate battle between good and evil. And, the great thing about the movies is that good always wins over evil every time so as Delia and I emerge from the theater, we are feeling invincible.
As we head back to CCYA, Delia is eating the last few Skittles and she offers me some. I look at her and think, "How did I get here?" Taking the Skittles from the bag, I break down, sobbing. Delia puts her arms around and says, "Hey, it's ok, I got you." She never asks me what is wrong, she just knows. She just knows that when for so long, you don't have anybody and you become an invisible nobody to the world, that when your new best friend offers you the last Skittles in a bag on your birthday - a birthday that you have never celebrated before . . . well she just knows that there are no words, only tears that say "thank you." I am definitely not planning to run away from CCYA or Delia. I think this is where I will stay for a while.
Arriving back at CCYA, Delia and I head straight for the refrigerator to eat the leftover cake. We get two forks and some milk in paper cups and Delia sings Happy Birthday again before we dive in. Two other residents come into the kitchen and grab forks and we all have a feast together. It's my birthday today and I am 18. When we lift our cups of milk, Delia offers me a toast, "To the first day of the rest of your adult life! Happy Birthday, Teisha."
I can't help but think that this is the best day ever and I am now a very visible somebody!
Chapter Eight
Halloween
Little Jay
The first time I walked into CCYA, it was covered in spider webs and bats were hanging from the ceiling. I was carrying a big laundry bag that held everything I own in the world. As my social worker opened the second door, she said, "Oh, my." It was the coolest group home that I had ever been to. In the next room there were tombstones and ghosts everywhere. I dropped my bag on the ground and, as I looked up, I spun in a slow circle making sure to see everything.
When a staff came out to greet us, she said, "Oh yeah, it's Halloween around here! It's Ms. Kimie's favorite holiday, so you better start thinking about what kind of costume you want to wear to the Halloween party."
I thought, who is this Ms. Kimie, because I am gonna really like her.
My name is Jay and I am 12 years old. Some people say I am kind of small for my age and so they call me "Little Jay." I was put in foster care when I was nine years old because my daddy beat me with an extension cord and his fists. My momma never tried to stop him. My daddy said he wouldn't hurt me again, but my social worker said the old scars and breaks on my x-rays made her "not a believer."
I lived in one foster home and two group homes before I came to CCYA. I really just want my daddy to move away, so I can live with my momma. But my social worker says my momma won't leave him, so I can't go home.
The best day this year was when I finally met Ms. Kimie. She promised to help me get a super scary costume for Halloween. I wanted something that was bloody and repulsive!
As donated costumes were being dropped off, I was getting excited. First, I picked a Vampire and then a Werewolf. I couldn't decide. I went from one costume to another. That's when Ms. Kimie said she had found something really special and just for me. I couldn't believe my eyes - A Scream mask and black cloak! It was perfect!! It had this blood that squirted around the face when you pushed a button inside the costume. I couldn't stop jumping all over the place. Ms. Kimie said I looked like I had ants in my pants. I just kept squealing and laughing and spinning around!
It's not that I haven't ever had a costume before. One time I wore my cousins Spiderman pajamas, and one time I wore a sheet as a ghost. I mean, Halloween is my favorite holiday. Kids wear costumes and get candy, and nobody gets mad if you are jumping around and having fun. Nobody is going to hit you or knock you down for not being still. Halloween is the one day of the year when you get be excited and eat candy without getting punishments.
For the past two years, I have been living in different group homes and so I haven't really done much for Halloween. But that is changing this year! I can't believe that I am going to wear this super scary costume to the Halloween party and again out Trick-or-Treating. I feel like I will jump out of my own skin with excitement.
As October 31st gets closer, I am all about my costume. Sometimes Ms. Kimie lets me put the mask on and walk around The Center after school. I don't think anyone knows it's me and the girls think the squirting blood is nasty. I love it. One of the staff tell me not to scare the girls so much, and I love it even more! That's what Halloween is all about - having fun scaring people.
On the day of the Halloween party, I never take my mask off. None of the volunteers know who I am, and I think even some of the staff are wondering. I spend the whole night scaring people and having a lot of fun. I did take the mask off just a little bit to eat some fingers made of cheese, some spider balls made of chocolate, and some hotdogs wrapped like mummies! My stomach is so full of good stuff. And by the end of the night, we are all dancing outside and it is a really great time!
Three days later, on Halloween night, the staff took a group of us Trick-or-Treating in a nearby neighborhood of houses. It reminded me of the Halloween nights that they show in the movies. We went running from house to house and everyone loved my mask! I think that I had to be the scariest creature in the whole neighborhood. I collected a ton of candy and when it was time to go back to The Center, I didn't want the night to end.
The next day, while returning my costume, I tell Ms. Kimie that it has been the best Halloween that I have ever had. She is so glad for me that she gives me the Scream mask, saying that I can keep it for good. I have been hoping and hoping this would happen!
Even though I can't live at home with my momma right now, it has been really good to come to CCYA in October. I have been here for almost a month, and I have had my best Halloween ever. So, beware if you visit CCYA because I own this mask now, and I can put it on for a good scare any time!
Chapter Nine
Thanksgiving
Mandy
There was a time, not too long ago, when I didn't think that I had much to be thankful for. I was so messed up from something that was happening to me that I couldn't feel anything good or anyone's love. But all of that changed one day when I was 16 years old, and I wrote a paper for school. I couldn't believe that I was writing about what happened to me, but once I started, I couldn't stop. The thoughts, emotions and pain just poured out onto the pages. And then, I did the unthinkable. I turned in the paper. It was entitled "I'm Free."
That is how I came to live at The Center for Children & Young Adults (CCYA). At that time, I was a junior at Osborne High School, and the teacher who received my paper knew other students who lived at CCYA. After reading the paper, she talked to me and then she contacted The Center. She wanted to make sure that when DFCS got involved, I would have a good place to stay. She also wanted me to be able to stay enrolled at Osborne. And, luckily, that is precisely what happened.
Telling anyone that I was repeatedly sexually molested by my mother's husband was something I didn't think I would ever do because I am so ashamed. I am also very angry at my mother who wants to pretend she did not know where he was going when he left her bed at night to come into my room. He threatened me, manipulated me, and made me feel guilty, trapped and helpless.
First of all, I never dreamed in a million years that it would happen to me. Secondly, I really never thought that I'd be one to sit back and suffer in silence. As it turns out, the movies were right, and most victims don't speak up. I just kept it a secret. Yeah, sure I was smart, but when it came down to what to do about it, I was clueless.
I was terrified of the dark. The thought of any man looking at me made me nervous and the touch of anyone made my skin crawl. But worst of all, I just knew I would never get over it. I was stuck in a stagnate state of distress, fright, depression, helplessness, and eventually anger. I was so appalled, not just about what happened, but what I let it do to me. I became a recluse who was clammed up with all of these emotions, and I hated what I had become. I was no longer focused on what had happened to me, but what I was doing to myself.
I am smart and strong, so why wasn't I acting that way? Because I was so deeply ashamed.
I say, "I am smart and strong," because I have always been the "go-to" girl for help and advice. Now, I admit that some of the problems that my girlfriends would bring to me, I found a bit petty. But, one day a friend came to me with a problem that almost made my heart stop. I mean this was so serious and as she confided in me, my legs started to tremble, my palms were soaked with sweat, and I couldn't catch my breath. I realized that I couldn't handle her problem because it was the same as my own. So, I just cried. You see she was being sexually molested by an older man living in her home too. At the time, I thought it would have been so much easier to just walk away, but I couldn't. I wanted to help her because I wanted someone to help me. So, I thought maybe if I could help her, then I could help myself in the process.
We talked a long time. We cried and we hugged. It was such a relief to share my secret with someone who knew what I was going through, and how awful that I felt about it. Her support gave me the strength to write the paper, which was finally my cry out loud for help. I am so grateful that we found each other that day.
Earlier today, the church hosted a big Thanksgiving feast for all of us at CCYA. So, I spent the day hearing about what other people are thankful for - the adults were thankful for the meal, our Lord, strong faith, family, fellowship, and good health. The kids at CCYA were thankful for the meal, their CCYA bedroom, the staff, their brothers & sisters, and the church who took them in on the holiday.
I am thankful that I am not in my nightmare situation anymore. I am thankful that I came to CCYA where I have met Mr. Wells, the Music Director, who has been an incredible father figure to me. You see, I am a singer. Being at CCYA in the choir, learning solos, and performing at events has been my life preserver, and it has kept my head above water. The relationships that I have built with staff and other residents have given me a support system. Participating in therapy has helped me to deal with my shame and realize that I am not to blame. I am not fully there yet, but it is something I am working on. I think the greatest progress I have made is that I am no longer living with a secret that I was always trying to pretend was not real. I am not walking around in a trance wearing baggy clothes and hiding. I'm no longer trying to cover up my secret in every interaction that I have with other people. So, for sure, I am very thankful to be free of this burden.
I will spend another 30 minutes writing in my journal tonight before going to bed. It's peaceful here. I am safe in my bedroom. As another resident, a friend, taps on my door to see if I want any popcorn, I am wishing I had gone back for another piece of pie before leaving the church. There is just something about overeating on Thanksgiving that is not only acceptable but expected. Oh, well . . . I guess I will have to make do with popcorn tonight. Come to think of it, I believe the pilgrims and Indians actually ate popcorn at the first Thanksgiving. Oh, to be journaling about popcorn and pilgrims tonight, instead of secrets and shame- These are the real things I am thankful for!
Chapter Ten
The Christmas Party
Juan
My day started off like any other day. I woke up and got ready for school. As usual, my foster mom told me to hurry before I missed the school bus. I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door. Being in the eighth grade can be complicated. I went from class to class until lunch time when my friends and I like to hang out and have fun.
We were all at the lunch table making plans to meet up at the movies over the weekend, when one of my teachers came over and told me that I was needed in the office.
"Why?" I asked.
"The principal wants to talk to you," she answered.
But why does the principal want to talk to me?"
"Please just go to the office and take your backpack with you."
"I'll get it when I come back."
"No," she insisted. "Please take it with you now."
So, I picked up my book bag and went to the principal's office.
As I walked in, I saw Mr. Jordan sitting behind his desk. He directed me to take a seat and that is when I noticed another person in the room. I recognized her instantly.
"Juan, do you remember me?" she asked.
I shook my head yes and my eyes started to sting with tears. She was a social worker from DFCS, the one who came and took me from my other foster home a year ago.
"Am I going back to my foster home?" I asked her.
"No, Juan. You have to go live in another place," she tried to explain but without any explanation.
"Why?" I begged. "I haven't done anything wrong."
"It's just what you have to do," she said.
Then, we left the school. We just got in her car and drove off. She didn't even let me say goodbye to my friends.
"Can we go back to the foster home so I can get my things?" I mumbled. I was kind of in shock that this was happening.
"Your things were already packed up and I picked them up before I picked you up. They are in the trunk of the car," she said, as if I should be appreciative.
The rest of the ride was quiet, and we didn't talk to each other until she turned on Austell Road.
"So, where are you taking me?" I finally dared to ask. I really didn't want to know.
"You're going to a place called CCYA. It's a group home and we are almost there," she said, smiling for the first time since the principal's office.
"I'm going where? What's that? What's a group home? . . . Well, it can't be any worse than the last foster home," I blurted out, not caring if I sounded disrespectful. But to be honest, even though the foster home wasn't that good, I had good friends there and I hated to leave them. As I was thinking about my friends and all that I had lost, the car pulled into the parking lot at CCYA. I was not going to admit it to anyone but I was scared.
Walking into CCYA, I noticed how many kids were living there. I didn't want to trust anyone, especially the staff. They don't know me, and I don't want them to know me. But every staff I met said, "Juan, we're so happy you're here."
Whatever, I thought. How can any of these people be happy that I'm here? Nobody knows me. I could turn up, I thought. Then, would they be happy I'm here? Probably not. I kept having all these thoughts in my head and wondering how living at CCYA was going to make my life any better. I decided it wasn't. I am still without any family and now without friends. I just wanted to leave, but I had no idea where I could go.
Ms. Dasha guided me to my room, and it was okay. The bed was actually clean, and the comforter, sheets and pillow looked brand new. She introduced me to my roommate, JP. He seemed to be alright too. I felt a little relieved.
Ms. Dasha called into the room and told me she needed to see me for a moment. I rolled my eyes, more for JP than myself, and went to see what she wanted. She handed me a sheet of paper that said Christmas Wish List.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"Christmas is just around the corner and we need to get your Wish List so you can be included in the upcoming party and Christmas morning celebration," she answered.
"Okay, whatever," I mumbled as I walked back into the room and asked JP, "Does anyone fill these things out, or what?
"Yeah, of course," he answered and seemed pretty happy about it.
But, for me, Christmas is no big deal. It's just another day on the calendar. And, I know how it goes when you're in care. Someone will give you a pack of socks and underwear, maybe a book and a Christmas stocking filled with a toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss and a bag of chips. It's not that I don't need these things, I do. So, what's the big deal?
The next day, Ms. Dasha finds me to see if my Wish List is done. I tell her that I will get it done. But I had no idea what to put on it. JP said he was asking for a pair of shoes, some Levis jeans, and an iPod because he loves to listen to music. He had some other things on his list too. I was shocked! I mean who would ask for that stuff? I still struggled with the list, and I just couldn't figure it out. Then, I met Ms. Kimie. She asked how it was going with the list. I gave her what I had and walked away.
An hour later, Ms. Kimie found me and said, "How about we finish your list." We sat down in her office and went over each section one by one. She noticed that my pants and my shoes were too small and said, "Why don't you ask for new ones." Searching online, we found a cool pair of Nike tennis shoes that I had seen in a commercial a while back. I thought, those are really cool, and I secretly wished that I could get something like that. After about an hour, we finished the Wish List. As I left her office, I thought to myself, whatever, it's just another day.
Saturday morning came. There was so much noise that it woke me up. I looked over and JP wasn't in the room. I walked out into the hallway to find a large group of volunteers playing Christmas music and putting up decorations. It was noisy. Some of the other kids, like JP, were running around helping. When he saw me, JP said, "Dude, you're missing it. We're putting up Christmas trees."
"I don't care about Christmas," I told him.
But JP kept bugging me until I agreed to help. I went into the dining hall and a lady handed me a box that looked like wooden singers. She called them "carolers."
"You are going to love this!" She said, pulling them out of the box.
Together, we put the carolers on the ledge outside the dining room, setting them up so they looked like they were singing to the building.
"What else can I help you with?" I asked.
"Oh sweetie," she said giving me a hug. "Come help with the big tree up front."
So, off we went. At the Life Works entrance, there was a big group of residents and volunteers who were laughing and decorating a big tree. I stood and looked at it for a second until a man said, "Grab what you like and start decorating." So, I did. We all worked on that tree together and everyone acted as if they had known me forever. When we finished it, I just stared at the tree, and I thought to myself … nice job.
When the decorating day was over, the entire campus was covered in Christmas - inside and out. I found myself smiling for the first time since I arrived. I admit it, I had fun. As I was heading back into the building and towards my room, JP caught up with me.
"Hey bro, where did you go?" he asked.
Laughing, I told him, "Those ladies had me decorating all over campus. It was crazy!"
"Just wait until tomorrow" he said, putting his arm on my shoulder. "Let's get dinner and chill. I'm beat."
We woke up early Sunday morning and staff were telling us to get ready for the annual holiday party. I was still tired and hoping this party thing would not last that long. Everyone was getting dressed up and I realized that I didn't have any nice clothes to wear. So I was genuinely surprised when staff brought me a pair of new black dress pants, a black vest and a red button-down dress shirt. The clothes were actually pretty cool, and I looked good!
As we walked out to the CCYA parking lot, there was a big Coach Bus. Staff were waving us to come over. I couldn't believe this bus was for us! I got on the bus, and it was lit! The bus driver welcomed us, and we were off to the party at the Marriott Hotel. I'd never been there before, and I was acting like I wasn't excited about it, but I was.
When we arrived, we lined up outside the ballroom and you could hear the crowd inside. It was big. Ms. Kimie said there were more than 300 people inside. Entering the room, it was like nothing I had ever seen. Music was playing loud, and people were applauding and cheering. Tables were set up all over the room with brightly wrapped presents stacked on them. A friendly lady escorted me to my table, and I saw the best thing ever - a decorated sign in the middle of table with my name "Juan" boldly printed on it. Sitting at my table was a mother, father, and their three children - one boy and two girls.
Reaching out to shake hands with the father, I said, "Hi, I'm Juan."
He stood, shook my hand firm and said, "Hey, Juan." Then he gave me a hug. The son gave me a "high-five" and the two girls hugged me as well.
Ms. Carrie, the mother said, "We are so excited to meet you. Would you consider us as your Christmas family for the day?"
The five-year-old daughter, Meghan, said excitedly, "It means you get to be my new brother." I didn't know what to say, so I gave her a high-five and said "Absolutely!"
Sitting at the table, I could hear some of the other kids starting to sing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town." It turns out they have a CCYA Youth Choir, and they are pretty good. I can't believe it! While they are singing, Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus come walking right into the room, waving and surrounded by a bunch of little kids dressed as elves. They parade to the front where they are seated in big red chairs. The whole thing is un-real, and everyone is cheering and so excited about their arrival.
Ms. Kimie is running from table to table taking pictures in her elf costume. I am having the best time ever! After we pray and eat, it is time to open the gifts.
"Are you sure I am supposed to open gifts now?" I asked Ms. Carrie. She and Mr. Herbert (the father) respond, "Of course you can!" The countdown started 10-9-8…3-2-1 GO! I began opening the gifts. What's this? A sketch pad and charcoal pencils? How did they know? A new coat! And it's a pea coat too! Levis! Omg! I even got a 49er's jersey that I had put on my list. I couldn't believe it. I finally made it to my last gift. I opened the box and couldn't believe my eyes. Nike's. They bought me a pair of Nike shoes. I was stunned and I guess I was just sitting there taking it all in.
"Juan are you okay?" My Christmas family kept asking. "If it's the wrong size or color, we can exchange it. Whatever it is, Juan, we will fix it." I got up and just walked away from the table. I was trying so hard not to cry.
"Are you okay? Do you feel sick? Juan, what's wrong?" I looked up to see Ms. Kimie standing in front of me. She put one hand on each of my arms to help steady me. I was still trying not to cry, but it was no use. I couldn't help it, and it wasn't one of those "a-tear- fell-down-my-face" cries either. I was sobbing, just sobbing uncontrollably. My nose was running. I was trying to catch my breath.
"It's okay, it's okay," Ms. Kimie kept repeating as she held me tightly.
"Ms. Kimie, I don't understand," I cried. "They don't even know me, why would they do all this for me?"
"It's okay," she said again. "It's Christmas and like all kids, you deserve to be a little spoiled on Christmas."
As Ms. Kimie hugged me again, I said, "I'm sorry, I am so overwhelmed. This is my first real Christmas. I never had this before." She walked me back over to the table and I whispered to Ms. Kimie, "When I grow up, I want to do this for someone in my same situation." I pulled myself together. My Christmas family put their arms around me and just held me for a few minutes.
After we ate a lot of really good food, the two little daughters, Meghan and Hannah, asked their dad if they could go take a picture with Santa and Ms. Claus. Mr. Herbert turned to me and said, "Come on, Juan! Let's all go." I laughed as they each took both of my hands and led me to the stage. First, we took a few group pictures and then Ms. Carrie asked if I would like to take one alone with Santa, and I did.
As the party came to a close, I didn't want the day to end. I can't believe that I was hoping earlier this morning that the event would not last long. It's funny how you can change how you feel about something. I hugged my Christmas family tightly and we all agreed to keep in touch. Then, we loaded the bus to head back to CCYA. On the bus, everyone laughed and talked about how much fun we had. I just couldn't stop thinking about the amazing day I had.
When we got back to The Center, I collected my gifts and table sign and took them to my room. I was exhausted, but JP could not stop talking.
"What was your favorite thing about today?" he asked.
I thought about it for a minute. The gifts were over the top; my Christmas family was so welcoming, kind and supportive; but the thing I think I liked best was my very first picture with Santa Claus. I may be 13, but today I learned, firsthand, that you are never too old to sit with Santa. Merry Christmas!
