Ross
An hour or less before the darkness of the night completely vanquished the romantic palette the sunset had cast in the sky. Each reminiscence attached to a particular music, place, scene, even scent, and specific time of day is relived, making us sentimental. To me, every sunset only revived trepidation-nothing to get nostalgic about.
Life for me started when I was brought to the Home of Orbona, where I stayed for nine years before Aunt Shirley found and took me in. Most of my memory, my childhood, and my less agitating experiences took place there. I didn't remember crying, but I also didn't forget how I felt so empty like there was a hole in my chest none in this world could fill.
My years at the orphanage have relentlessly shown me the absence of permanence. I had people I cared about. They came, stayed for a while, and eventually were necessitated to go. Orbona was home to at most twenty orphans during our time. Some of us got adopted, and I was the only one left from the original bevy. Then came another batch of orphans, and so on, until I became the oldest orphan and every other kid in Orbona was polite to me.
Administrators and elderlies in Orbona were worried I would soon outgrow the place and might run away. I was not getting any younger, and no foster parents, much less adoptive parents, would want an angsty teenager in their home. I was thankful Aunt Shirley came for me. Coming with her and leaving the town was somehow a step for me to live a normal life that people who usually knew my history wouldn't let me have. It felt like a restraint had been lifted off of me, but the emptiness remained.
When I got home, only Aunt Shirley was loafing in the kitchen meditating with her tea. I went upstairs unnoticed and waited until dinner was ready. One of the many that I wasn't accustomed to and had to when I lived here was that there were actual people who would look after me, like I wasn't on my own, completely. Not that I wasn't taken care of at Orbona, but with the other orphans who also needed to be attended to, it was already an instinct to be responsible for ourselves. Very self-evident that the supervision and attention given to us by the adults at Orbona were not undivided.
Having Aunt Shirley and my cousins Clea and Cyresse focus on me as the youngest was totally new to me. For the first few months, they didn't allow me in the kitchen to cook or just hold a knife to help when they were preparing for breakfast or dinner. I had to prove that I could be left alone at home without accidentally putting the house on fire or unintentionally hurting myself because I handled a sharp object. Hilarious times when they hadn't realized that I was able to develop superlative self-reliance even before they took me under their wing.
"Rossleen..."
I smiled at Cyresse, who had just arrived home and whose head peeked in through the marginally open door of my room. Her shoulder-length brunette hair was dangling off her tilted small face, and her close-set and upturned eyes were twinkling. She squinted as if she were inspecting me in a teasing manner. Those were the same pair of eyes that normally intimidated people who didn't know her. But also the very eyes that assured me of hope when situations upset me.
Cyresse was just a year and a half older than me, but the way she treated me suggested that I was way younger than I actually was. She delighted herself by acting as one of the adults, even if her only valid ID was one from her university.
At Aunt Shirley's place, there was no need for me to fall in line before I had my tray filled with a fixed amount of food servings. At Aunt Shirley's place, I can eat at any time, in any amount, not to mention how we always have an unlimited supply of plant-based foods and, fortunately, fish in the fridge. In this home, there was no need for me to put myself behind younger kids in line so they could eat first. I became the priority; I no longer have to put someone before me. I am comfortable in this place with them.