Angered and self-centered, most kids wish their parents would disappear. Some kids even despise their parents. Not me. I would have been delighted for my mother to come back.
During my 6th grade year my grades began to drop like a thermometer on a cold day. "Why don't you understand this;you are so stupid", I said to myself. The science raced in another language, or so it seemed.
Saddened, and devastated, I knew my mother had fallen into the grabbing hands of depression. I never would have expected my mom would try to commit suicide. She always seemed so vigorously vibrant, like the sun. I kept telling myself, "Nicole your just in a long nightmare; you'll awaken when the rooster crows." Things came to mind like, "maybe if I would have..." but deep inside I knew it was not my fault.
One day while at school I was notified that I was now a ward of the state. "What is that", I questioned. "You are property of the state until further notice", boomed a strong firm voice. "Are you stupid? Crazy? My mom loves ME. She will not let this happen; she'll march down to the agency and tell them a few words." Although, somehow, I knew she wouldn't.
In the dark unlit room, where they have one sided glass surrounding one wall, and a corner full of dolls, cars, and books, I met a little old lady with bright red hair,and she was my new foster mother. I didn't like the sound of someone dressing up and pretending to be a better mom that mine. To be some one cooler because she had a peice of paper that said she could take in kids who where just ohh so helpless. Not me. I wasn't helpless. I had heard of kids getting moved all over the state and split up from their brothers and sisters, and I was saddened. At first I thought that I would graze there for a week or so. I kept thinking, "mom will come get me, she has to". I refused to unpack because that meant that I was really there. I refused to count this fake set up my home. I became filled with rage and anger like a bull. My thoughts, confused, and angry, were mangled; I felt like my head, brain boggling, was reciting a language I didn't understand.
The next day I went to school and that was to worst. Unlike Kalamazoo everyone was preppy and enthusiastic and it kind of got annoying. On my first day of school two girls came up to me, and one had golden brown hair and was the size of a ten year old kid.
They immediatly drummed me with questions. My heart began to beat faster and faster. So hard I could feel it in my head. There was only one thing to do now. I had to lie. "Why did you come here", everyone asked. The question echoed in my ears and I could feel the tears inside. "Because my mom is on a vacation for a few months" was all I COULD say. The words came out so fluently after that. It was almost like I had convinced myself until I returned to the home. It saddened me to hear people say, "I hate my parents", or, "My like is so hard". Without my father in my life and being taken from my mom it made them sound greedy or unthankful.
So finally, what could this stroy mean to you? Could it mean cherish what you have because you never know when it might didappear? YES! My story does have a good ending though. Or more of a beginning sort of. In July of 2008, I returned to my beloved mother. Even now I know that I can finally mend a relationship that was broken like fallen glass.
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