After another few months with my grandmother, my uncle Rob and aunt Lisa took me in. They couldn’t have children of their own, and they called me their “miracle kid.”
Uncle Rob joked that I’d just been sent to the wrong place.
“I agree,” aunt Lisa said.
“You’re right where you belong, my sweet girl.”
I didn’t laugh at first, but over time, I started to believe them.
How could I not?
Aunt Lisa stayed with me before bedtime, getting me into a routine of brushing my hair, and then her braiding it.
“Braided hair means less damage, my love,” she said. “And it will help your beautiful hair grow long and strong.”
She would buy us clothes in matching colors, and she would show up to every single school event. She was the mother I had always needed.
Uncle Rob was just as incredible, always ready to give me advice, take me on sneaky ice cream dates, and provide endless dad-jokes.
When I turned twelve, I stopped calling my parents altogether.
I’d been the only one making an effort, and I realized I was holding on to a dream that wasn’t real.
My bio-parents didn’t care. They rarely even sent me birthday cards or presents. They didn’t even send uncle Rob and aunt Lisa any money to take care of me.
By the time I was sixteen, Rob and Lisa officially adopted me, cutting the last thread tying me to my so-called parents.
Aunt Lisa had made it such a special event. She decorated the backyard and planned an intimate birthday dinner for me, including chocolate cupcakes and a puppy.Continue reading…
