Lost and Found

The Beginning

"Come on, Bee, it's time to wake up."

I was gently awoken to a calming voice. A soothing hand rubbed up and down my back trying to get me to stir. My family knew I wasn't a morning person. I tried to wiggle around and noticed I couldn't. I always slept so wildly that by the time I woke up, I had cocooned myself in my comforter until I was immobile.

"Come on baby, you've got school. First day! Dad made pancakes."

Now that got my attention. Dads pancakes were amazing. I wasn't much of a breakfast person but I would most certainly eat my dads blueberry pancakes.

I slowly opened my eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them as they adjusted to the early morning sun streaming through the blinds. As my hazel eyes met a pair of warm brown ones, I smiled sleepily at one of my favorite people on this planet.

My other dad.

My dads were my rocks. My protectors. My people. And I owed them everything. They saved me.

I don't remember much from my childhood, but what I did know-it wasn't good. I apparently had lived in a family until the age of 3 when my mother was killed in a car accident. After that, I was put up for adoption and that's when I was placed in a foster home. I don't know anything about my birth family. I have one faded picture that I've been able to keep all these years. It was me when I was probably around 3-4 being held by someone who was older than me. I always assumed he was my brother because of our similar features.

I don't remember the details of my foster home from the age of about 4-6. I think my young mind repressed the memories. I'm told that one night, the cops received a call about a suspicious and rundown home in the east side of the city.

The same warm brown eyes that were boring into mine now, were the only ones I trusted the night I was saved. This was the only memory of my past I could remember before joining my family.

I stood in the cold, shivering, as I surveyed my surroundings. I had no idea what was happening but the place was swarming with cops. I thought my foster dad, Roy, would be angry that the cops were here. I was so tired and hungry and confused. Silent tears streamed down my face as I stared at the soggy ground and my holey, mud-soaked socks.

Suddenly, someone made their presence known in front of me. I was scared to look up. A figure crouched down to my level.

"Well, hi, honey. Can you tell me your name?"

I was petrified. I bit my lip as my stomach rolled with anxiety. I began to shake slightly, and not just from the cold.

"Let me help you, sweetie. I promise you I'm not gonna hurt you. Can you look at me, please?"

I slowly obeyed the command and met the kindest pair of eyes I had ever seen.

"Well aren't you a cutie. What's your name, hun?" The stranger encouraged gently.

I quietly mumbled my name.

"Bee? Is that it?"

I nodded-it was close enough.

"Well, Bee, how about we get you into some warm clothes and maybe get some hot chocolate?"

My eyes widened. Hot chocolate? I was going to get a treat? But I hadn't even done anything.

"Would you like that, sweet girl?" The man asked, seeing my interest had been piqued.

I nodded shyly. The man then stood to his full height which was a little intimating, but he slowly held out his hand to me. I stared at this stranger with so much longing to be loved and cared for.