Dominantor's Property

1

SANA

In a few weeks, it will be my nineteenth birthday. I am what people call an old soul. In a few weeks, I will be transitioning out of foster care and into my own apartment.

My foster parents, Rose and Cal, who have been wonderful to me have arranged for me to rent the garage above Rose's parents house. This way I will live an independent life while still being close to the only family I have had in a long time.

Because I’ve been a ward of the court for the past few years, the “system” will supplement my income through college and pay for tuition, too.

I could’ve opted to move out and finish my victory lap of high school from my own place on my 18th birthday but they invited me to stay and being an only child who embraced this busy, hectic, and crazy house full of laughter and love and great food, I was happy they invited me to stay the extra year.

I’ve been in care since I was 9. My Mom committed suicide and that led to my already troubled father falling completely off the rails, landing me into the foster care system.

His partying and gambling got progressively worse and he’d always had trouble holding a job which was amplified without my Mom around. My Dad tried to move me in with his sister, my Aunt Carol, one night after he got beat up pretty bad right in front of me by loan sharks, but she’d said Not a chance. She actually said that right in front of me. Shame on her. And shame on Dad for asking her in front of me.

Not only did she refuse but she then called social services after coming to the apartment to argue with him because of seeing the way Dad and I were living. They took custody of me so that he could get his life together but he never actually did manage to do that for long enough to get me back. I was better off in care anyway.

Dad seemed like he wanted to try a few times --- he’d go long periods of time without seeing me and then he’d turn up for a visit, tell me he was doing better, then he’d sometimes even do a monthly visit two months in a row but inevitably over the past 9+ years, the more common pattern was for him to get my hopes up and then let me down and disappear for many months at a time. I stopped having expectations of him a long time ago. Becoming a ward of the court made it simpler. They stopped trying to make him try.

I’ve been through a few different foster homes but Rose and Cal’s has been, by far, the most nurturing of all. I moved here when I was 13 and not only do they go out of their way to make their home a real home but whatever isn’t provided that me or the other girls need through the “system” they take out of their own pockets. Three years ago they bought all us girls bicycles out of their own pockets for Christmas. The year after we got to go to Disney World together, on their dime. They’re amazing people and they’ve helped so many girls get their lives together. I hope to repay them someday.

I wouldn’t say I’m a model student or model foster child. I’ve gotten caught sneaking out to go to parties. I’ve skipped school a few times. I’ve gotten drunk and high and I’m not a virgin. But I’m not a slut and I’m not a bad person. I know what I want from life and I’m grateful for the blessings I have.

I miss my Mom. I still don’t know why she killed herself. I wouldn’t say she was a happy person, and maybe her unhappiness ran deeper than I knew. I also don’t know why my Dad couldn’t seem to pull his life together. Even though he was never together before she died, he was really really messed up afterwards.

I don’t know how often he checks it but I’ve sent him a Facebook message to tell him about high school grad. I’m not counting on him making it. He’s never made it to any school plays, birthday parties, or anything else that I’ve asked him to come to. When Dad shows up it’s generally very random. I don’t know why I sent him an invite but I guess I’ve never totally given up on him. I’ve always tried to believe that people are redeemable.

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This is not an original work.