Pastel Anne

Orphaned as a child, I often wondered how it would feel to have someone caring for you, or tucking you in before going to sleep, or giving you a piggy back ride while loitering around the park. But as I grew older, I found out it wasn’t a big of a deal. It wasn’t all fun and love.

I was fostered to 15 different families since I was 8; now, I’m 15 years old. I remember being so excited and naive the very first time I was sent to a foster family. A family of my own, I thought.

My first day at the Foilers’ was remarkable, Mr. Foiler was as warm as a hot fudged chocolate, I was welcomed as though I was his newly born daughter, while Mrs. Foiler dressed and braided my hair, pampered me like I was her princess. I was truly happy, until suddenly shattered. It was my third day there when a hoard of police officers entered the Foiler’s residence. Turns out, the Foilers were notorious criminals, shipping children to buyers off the country. I could have been one of them, if not for my social worker who did an extra investigation on their background, hinting something is not right. What I thought was a dream turned into a nightmare. Something I can’t forget, even if I closed my eyes.

From then on, few foster families came and went. I had trouble trusting any of them again. Few were truly genuine and tried to connect with me, but I found much comfort in the walls of this orphanage.

“Anne, you’re growing older, soon enough you’ll be transferred to a girl’s home where you’ll stay there until you come of age, then you can live on you own.” Mother superior Hilda reminded me. It was a matter of time anyway, so might as well make the most out of it. I loved this orphanage. This is the only place I felt safe, where no one can harm me.

Whenever I’m lonely or troubled, I find pleasure in sketching using the pastel set my real parents gave me, though I could not recall their faces. It feels as though I can connect with them using these pastels. I can express myself and that there are no limitations to what I can do. God has given me an artistic talent and the only thing I can do to show that I am deeply honored is to develop it. It soothes my soul to know that I am still blessed.

One gloomy morning, mother superior approached me. “Anne, can I have a moment with you?” she inquired. I was puzzled, since it has only been a week since my last designation, and usually it took a month for another one.

“Yes mother Hilda.” I replied with much respect. Mother Hilda had been so patient and understanding with me and the pranks I pulled, she reprimands me, yes, but in a caring way. Making me respect her more. We proceeded to her office for privacy. It was located near the entrance of the building, to the rightmost part of it. It has been fully furnished, thanks to the charitable donation from our town. With its exquisite furniture, the office was chic and glamorous.

“Have a sit.” She referred to the chair in front of her desk. Then she continued, “I’m certain that you know it has only been a week since your last family, and it may seem such at short notice.” I couldn’t ponder where this is going. “But, this may be your last chance for a decent family.” I tried hard to process the conversation. Seeing my confusion she progressed further, “The parents are very eager to know you. They have two children, a daughter who is 10 years old, and a 5 year old son.”

“But, you can’t process the papers that fast. I mean, it would take 2 weeks at the very least.” I stuttered as I forced the words out of my mouth. “They paid someone to do it, someone who’s experienced in handling this kind of matter.” Mother Hilda explained. I blinked the tears which were now forming and becoming more visible.

“Why would they do that? Think about it. They must be up to something. Maybe they’ll ship me off like what the Foilers tried to do, maybe they’ll abuse me, or maybe they’ll do something to harm me.” All these thoughts blurted out of me. “I figured that you must think that, but I too had my doubts, why would someone go in such trouble to do this? So, I investigated them, and learned that they have been searching for Mrs. Adams niece since her brother along with her sister in-law died in a car accident last February 24, 2006. Same day when we found you wondering outside these gates. Their bodies had been found, but they could not locate her niece.” She then showed a photograph of a couple holding the hands of their daughter.

I gasped as I closely studied the picture. It was me! It is me! The same hair, the same color of eyes, the same dress I wore that day the nuns found me. I could no longer hold back the tears; they fell as though they’re raindrops from the sky. Trying to stop made it worse. I flipped the picture, and saw something written on the back of it. “Annabeth Liz Greene at 6 years old.” My real name is Annabeth. All this time, the only name I could come up with was Anne, that’s the reason why the nuns called me by that name.

I looked at mother superior, and saw her staring at me intently, with concern. She hugged me tightly, silently. The feel of her arms around me was comfort enough. I gathered my composure, and asked “You think it’s true? I’m their lost niece?” She nodded to answer the question.

When she saw that I was a bit refreshed, she prompted me to wash up and get some rest as it is a big day tomorrow. I was reluctant at first, I had so many uncertainties, I want to put my mind at ease.

I walked through the dimmed halls, seemingly dimmer, as though I was a ghost. As I entered my room, I collapsed on the floor. I gathered my thoughts and recollected what went through the walls of mother superior's office. I thought I was alone, I thought I’ll be lonely, forever. I cried, this time with joy.

I rushed to my closet and rummaged to find a box. It was no ordinary box, because it contained all the letters I wrote to God. Each letter contained a prayer, each prayer comprised my thoughts and feelings. It was my diary to God. I slept with that in my arms.

Early the next morning, mother superior woke me up "Dear, wake up. You better get ready because the Adams will be coming at noon." Today is the day.

As told, the Adams arrived at noon. I was sitting outside the office of mother superior, while Mr. and Mrs. Adams was inside discussing some important matters before finalizing the adoption.

“Hello. I’m Blessie.” The girl greeted me as she held out a hand, her brother by her side holding a teddy bear. “I’m Ann… Ann.. Anna..beth.. Annabeth.” I finally said and shook her hands in return. “My mom said you’re gonna be my big sister now. Is that true? I hope it is so, because I would really love to have two big sisters. Will you be my sister?” His brother blabbered. Cute little guy. I thought.

“Oh, and this is Jacob. He’s 5 years old and he likes to talk a lot.” Blessie said with a laugh.

I was amazed by them and how much they seem to want me to be in their family. “I would love to.” I replied which made Jacob smile.

“I see you’re all acquainted with each other.” I glanced to see Mrs. Adams coming our way with Mr. Adams trailing behind. “I’m Denise. I’m your father’s sister.” Not waiting for any response, she hugged me. “I’m so happy we found you. We’ve been searching for you for 7 years, and when I saw you on that market place near the park I knew that you’re Annabeth. It must be you.”

I was stunned by her sudden confession. I could not say anything, so instead I gave her my brightest smile.

“Shall we go?” Mr. Adams offered. His face looks kind.

“We shall.” Mrs. Adams answered him and gave him a peck on his cheek. One can easily tell that there’s so much love in their family.

As we headed out the building, the sun was shining brightly, the surroundings were much colorful than I remembered it to be, it was like the pastel set I carried with me. It was the start of something new. A new beginning for me.

“Thank you mom. Thank you dad. Thank you God” I whispered as I got in the car. I am truly and continuously blessed.