My First Day in Foster Care

I was barefoot in jeans and a t-shirt. I had spent the entire night at the police station being questioned about my life and I told them everything I could remember. I had no idea that from that moment of telling the truth, I would never be able to sleep in my bed again or go home to the house I had spent my entire 14 years of my life so far. I had to leave my cats and dog behind and my best friend who lived next door.

The social worker took me inside a stranger's home and the foster mom sat me at a kitchen table and served me a bowl of cream of wheat. I sat and stared at the bowl while tears streamed down my eyes. I was lost and wondered what I had done wrong. I was tired and just wanted to go home. It was April 6, 1991. I was 14 years old. This first home I would live at for 4 months.

I was put in foster care because I told the truth about the years of incest and rape by my father and 7 other people growing up from what I could remember from the age of 4 to 14.

My father was immediately arrested and my mother at the time had left the year before with an abusive boyfriend and lived homeless and in and out of hotels.

There was no family to claim me. Standing alone in the world, they say the truth will set you free, however I felt a tremendous responsibility and guilt for the family falling apart.

Our house went into foreclosure, our precious things and memories were put on the street curb for the vultures of the neighborhood to pick through. My mom tried to salvage what she could.