When I first saw the journal’s theme, Sudden Change, this crucial part of my life immediately jumped into my mind. I moved from an orphanage within a moment's notice and into a dysfunctional family that "Doubt" was warning me about. My hopes for stability and love were shattered in a short amount of time, and I wished I could as suddenly move back into the orphanage.

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A few months before I turned six, the sister in charge at the orphanage where I lived said to me, “You are leaving here today. A family is adopting you.”

My brain contested. What? Me? Adopted? Today? I watched Sister’s eyes for a lie. Her lips for a fake smile. I trusted no one. How could I? Each dream of a family adopting me had dried up like blood on my skinned knees.

“But, Sister, I didn’t stand in line in front of the mommies and daddies.” I slumped against the back of her office chair at the orphanage where I had sat rigid, hands folded in my lap as taught. Why is Sister teasing me? Hearing my doubt, seeing my eyebrows question, she sighed.

“You know this family because they’re your relatives. You have stayed with them a few times. Do you remember them? The Scotts? I think you call her ‘Aunt Laura.’ She is your mother’s cousin.” At the half-mention of my biological mother, I pushed away thoughts of her like cabbage on my plate.

“Yes, I remember Aunt Laura.”

“And do you remember her husband, Dave, and their son, Michael? He’s your same age.”

“I remember Mike.” I played games with him every time I stayed there while he lay sick in bed.

“You will also have grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. Your new mom will tell you all about them. You leave shortly, so go upstairs and place all your clean underwear and socks on the bed and brush your teeth. Leave your other clothes for the girls. Your parents will buy you what you need. And don’t forget your rosary under your pillow. Wash your face and hands, then wait for me. I’ll come up with a bag for your things and braid your hair.”

Leaving Sister’s office, I ran up the steps to the dormitory, but instead of packing, I plopped down on the edge of my bed and fell back, one arm extended toward the pillow, the other, the bed’s foot. I’m leaving here. No more foster parents. No more waiting. Finally!

However, Doubt lay down next to me whispering in my ear:

“You’re going to miss your friends. You’ll miss the Sisters too.”

I opened my eyes. But I’ll make new friends, have my own family, and a home.

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“It will work out!” And if it doesn’t, I bet I can come back. I’ll ask Sister.

Doubt tilted its chin downward, eyes upward wrinkling its brow. “What if she says you can’t?”

But I’ll love my new family. I won’t want to come back.

Doubt rubbed its chin. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

No! I want to leave!

I heard Sister’s steps and reaching for my rosary, wiped my eyes and jumped off the bed.

When she finished my hair, she sat on the bed with me and picked up my hands, rubbing the back of them with her thumbs.

“Now, Jesus wants you to be a good girl. Be helpful to your new family. You must do everything your parents tell you. They are always right no matter what they say or do.”

“Sister, can I come back if I don’t like them?”

“Why on earth would you ask a silly question like that? Come on, you’ll be just fine; you’ll see.”

Sister walked a step ahead of me downstairs while I fluttered a step behind. One sweaty hand held onto Sister’s, the other shuddered down the railing. Each foot hovered a few seconds over a tread before dropping to the next. I suspected once these people saw me, they would say, “Oh no, there’s been a mistake. She’s the wrong girl.”

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, we turned down the hall toward Sister’s office where she would tender me. While passing a window looking out to the yard, I saw my friends playing on the swing set, others throwing a ball, and some dancing in a circle. I could tell “Ring Around a Rosy” escaped from their moving lips, for they all fell down laughing. I wanted to run outside and say, “Guess what? I’m leaving—today!” Tell them I had a new family. Perhaps even gloat like the other orphans—“See-ya-later!” But we had reached Sister’s office, and I would never see my friends again.

Already seated in front of Sister’s desk and waiting, Aunt Laura and my new grandmother smiled at us as we walked in. I recognized them. My throat relaxed a bit. Sister sat behind her desk, and I sat on a bench against the wall waiting for my transfiguration.

Sister picked up my bound book from her desk, opened it, and tore out its one page. It had yet to contain the chapters that would come later: “The Age of Innocence,” “Killers of the Dream,” “Her Eyes Were Watching God.” No index pointed to “anxiety and doubts,” “behavior,” or “perseverance.” Instead, the Sisters had written the page to allure fans, so they knew what to expect.

“A must-read! …a character with a shy demeanor yet complicated emotions. . . .a sense of determination to excel. . . .compartmentalizes reactions to events…fear of failure that stymies vocalization. . . rarely defends herself. . . pliable…plays well with others.”

“Plays well with others” activated the adoption by Aunt Laura.

While handing the page to her, Sister told her the main rule of adoption:

“Do not bend, fold, or mutilate.”

Aunt Laura must not have heard Sister.

When finished, Sister stood. “May God bless you for taking her. She will make you a good daughter.” We will pray for all of you.”

As my second cousin, and blood counting with the State of Pennsylvania, Aunt Laura had an easy time adopting me. I didn’t know the relationship between my two mothers as first cousins, and it didn’t matter till years later. I didn’t remember much about the father, but would try to kill him years later. And he me. I did remember as months passed that as one page in a book on the orphanage shelf, I had hard covers protecting me and would later wish I could return to that safety. At that moment though, while looking at the smiles on Laura and her mother’s faces, the excitement that someone liked me enough to want me as a daughter, a granddaughter, dazed me enough to allow them to lead me away. I walked for the last time out of St. Vincent’s, turned to look at Sister every few steps, and then waved a final goodbye. Yes, I wanted to leave, yet I faced a fear that only the abandoned know. Will they, too, throw me away after a while?

I look back now and cannot imagine walking out the front door and down the sidewalk away from the orphanage with people I thought of as strangers, turning every few steps, waving at Sister. Facing the fear that the abandoned know. Will they too throw me away? I can’t imagine walking to the car in between these two women, holding the hand of the one who would love me with conviction—my new grandmother.

While my other hand shielded my eyes blinded by the summer’s screaming sun.

And I couldn’t imagine that while riding in the back seat to my new home, Doubt would sit beside me, singing, “…ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”

By Sharon Esterly

From: United States

Twitter: EsterlySharon

Facebook URL: https://facebook.com/sharon.esterly/