‘Nineteen, ninety-five,’ the day on the back of the photograph of five-year-old me staring back at me with sad blue eyes. Growing up as a child I thought myself rather ugly with my messy blond hair that didn’t want to behave, and freckles splashed across my face. I remember the date on the back of the photograph written in my father’s handwriting as if it was yesterday.
“We promise that we will be right back to come to get you guys,” my father promised. It won’t be the first empty promise my parents make to the three of us; my younger sister by a year, that had dark hair and dark brown eyes like my father, myself that looked like my mother, only she had dark green eyes, and my brother that was a year older than me that also looked like my father.
I guess that they would have said anything to not hear their three children cry as they walk away, leaving us behind at a children’s home. Being a parent myself now, I realize that perhaps when mine made the promise that they believed themselves, but then again, they made the same promise two years prior to the date on the back of the photograph when they were forced to give us up into foster care. Five-year-old me didn’t understand what we did wrong at the foster care but there we were, my father, taking photos of us right before his empty promises. Thinking back on it now one would think that someone that can afford a camera back then should be capable of feeding their children, right?
My five-year-old self did not know then that my parents have been divorced for two years already, my father was not able to make my greedy mother happy.
Once my parents left with a drop of tear in their eyes my brother got taken away as the house only catered for girls but we were told not to worry as he will be in a house not so far away and we will see each other every day, only we did not see each other every day.
A woman that looked about the same age as my mother, her hair short and curly, wearing thick glasses over her hazel brown eyes that made her look friendly and trustworthy enough, took us by our little hands.
“Because it is early in the day the other girls are still at school but while we wait for them I thought you two might like some hot dogs?” she asked.
Five-year-old me got excited at the thought of eating hot dogs. It is not that I never had a hot dog before then it was just that I remember being really hungry.
My joy was slapped away halfway through my hotdog because I messed tomato sauce on my dress and arriving with no clothes of our own meant that we still have to take to the clothing bank to have clothes fitted; three sets for day wear, one jersey as it is still summer, two night gowns, three sets of panties, two pairs of socks and no shoes as I was wearing a pair and the little ones only got one pair.
With my burning red face, I was dragged to the bathroom where my shirt was violently pulled over my head, leaving me standing there while the domestic worker was ordered to go look for a shirt from one of the other girls' closets that would fit me.
While I was waiting my sister came into the bathroom to show the house mother that she wet herself. Watching the house mother yank her pants down and hitting her on her rear end made me cry out, “leave her alone!”
From that day forward I always had to take my sister's punishment, but I didn’t mind as older sisters are supposed to protect their younger ones.
Once dressed in clean clothes we were walked over to the clothing bank to fit some clothes and on our way back to the house the school busses filled with kids entered through the gates. Happy children got off the busses and ran in different directions to the houses they stay in.
It was at that moment that I told myself that I will never be happy there; why should I, my mommy and daddy will be back shortly and then we will leave. I could not wait to tell my mother that the lady slapped me and spanked both my sisters and my rear ends. Only I never got to tell my mommy that day, or the next, or the one after that. It's been months and I was just about to give up on ever seeing my mother and father when one Saturday afternoon like every other Saturday afternoon that we were all made to stay in the homes for two hours, a not arived with my sister and my name on it. We got escorted by the lady that brought the note to a hall on the grounds of the children's home and there was my father. My brother was already sitting at the table that had drinks and sweets on them. My sister and I ran as fast as we could and flung ourselves into my father's arms.
“Where is mommy?” I wanted to know, looking around at all the other tables; parents and children sitting for a two-hour visit.
My father quickly distracted us with the treats on the table that he had to buy himself and before we knew it, time was up.
“I promise you that Monday afternoon I will meet you at the gate. Do you think you guys can manage to meet me at the gate?” my father asked in a hushed voice, explaining that he managed to get a flat across from the children's home and that he will come pass every day after work, just before five.
Monday came and the three of us played near the gate of the children's home, waiting for our father to keep his promise.
