When something special happens the world seems to slow down, to give you time to capture that moment forever; whether it would have been the first sounds of life, or how my eyes reflected life and light for the first time as the lines of my whole life connected to the tangled web of lifelines in my future to make me one person. For an instant the world is an ideal place to be- new life- new beginnings, a time to celebrate. In the very next instant that feeling is gone, like a leaf swept in the cold autumnal sky and lost forever. Those precious first seconds of life, when you look into your mother�s eyes and those silent bonds of love and trust are embedded into your lives forever, are destined to keep you going through the hard times for the rest of your life. I was born in Detroit, Michigan on the afternoon of October 11th, 1985. Smiles, laughter, exhausted handshakes to the weary father; congratulations to the proud mother of a healthy baby boy were absent. Silence. My mother was lying on her hospital bed trying to figure her own life out. Questions asking how could this have happened to her? Who was the father? My mother, a prostitute and frequent drug abuser had to have been wondering how to take care of me, how to take care of herself.
Flashes of my first year with my mother continue to haunt my mind as I try to block myself from the past. I feel the past calling me, crying to be remembered and yet I cannot deal with the demons. Crying for my mother day after day soon turned into crying for someone. Crying and laughter, my first taste of beer, smoke all mixed in a blend that twirls through my head. Walls whose color I can never forget, closing me in my crib. Wooden floor with a window to my right- bars going horizontal down the length of the glass. One day looking at the window at snow the next flash of fire outside the window. Screaming and yelling from all directions finally looking through the window as flashing lights and noises were invading my mind. A flash of a porch and a chair with someone waving to the car I was in. Then I was ripped away from my mother to a beginning of my life in foster homes, state institutions and orphanages. Not old enough to understand that was the last time I would see my family. The last time I would be treated like a son with his mother. The last time I could say I had a real family. The last time being around real people who actually cared for me, not the hours they were getting tucking in a bunch of unfortunate kids. My future did not hold a state facility- would I have been better off living the life I was supposed to live in Detroit?
I was taken to a foster home in Detroit. I remember seeing their house and their dog when the car stopped in the street. Not wanting to go, I laid down on the seat- who were these people? The dog constantly in my face, people smoking all the time. Where was my mom? A confusion of time then I was picked back up by the lady who dropped me off. As I later learned I was allergic to their dog so they gave me back to the state. An orphanage outside of Mt. Clemens, Michigan. A huge building by the jailhouse. What was going on? Walls and hard floors and many beds all in the same order. A root beer float and television. Where was my mom? Every time I cried- yelled at and then no crying anymore. Crying was very bad- it brought angry people to me. My memories becoming clearer with each passing day, my most vivid memory being in a bathroom at the orphanage. A boy was doing something and I tried to use the bathroom by myself. He started touching me and feeling me. Pulling his pants down he started doing things you only hear about through television and newspapers. A memory I will have forever. A permanent scar I will always hate and blame everyone for. Where was my mom? I was about 3 years old, old enough to understand the meaning of shut up.
In a car again, this time to another foster home. I remember pulling up in the car and looking out the back seat window and seeing a tree to the right surrounded by wood with sand in it. The whole family was outside waiting for me. I did not want to go and I desperately clung to the woman. She kneeled down next to me and rubbed my back. One of the kids came and we went into the house. This foster family name was the Lee�s and here I was 3 years old- into another family. I hid from them constantly and never came out. I remember Jon- another foster kid in the home. We had things in common him and I and I felt his pain when he was alone in the room.
All the time the thoughts of my mother were slowly going away- repressed into the back of my mind. Only to come out at night as my pillow became my best friend. Could I just go into the living room and climb into Mrs. Lee�s lap. No- I was terrified of them yet deep down I still remember the hate for them. I don�t know why- I hated everyone. I wanted to lash out all the time and I took it out on Jon and was constantly being yelled at. Constantly being read the bible and going to Sunday school- filled with thoughts that God was my savior. Having bible stories read to me every night - right before snack time. Then it was off to bed. My baby sister was brought to the same foster home- after being told who it was I never left her side. Someone like me- my own flesh and blood. I understood it was a connection to my mother and I didn�t want to get rid of that.
Why wasn�t I happy? How could I be- I did not understand the things around me as I desperately needed to. I didn�t control anything- I hardly knew where I was. What was going to happen to me? I waited everyday for the lady to come back and get me�No one. Fall comes around and my first birthday with real people around me. How old was I? I didn�t know - we had to wait while Mrs. Lee went to get the case file. She walked back into the kitchen and said I was 4. 4 years old and I hand a clue who the hell I was. Where was the god that bade the world to be like children? To walk into the gates of heaven and be presented with the very best of life. What was that crap anyway? I loathed the bible while at the same time I had begun to realize it was my ticket in this family.