letters you’ll never read

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Dear Kids,
Well, we’ve known each other for a few months now. In some ways we know each other better than anyone else does. In other ways it’s like we just met today and are more confused by each other than ever before.

Slamming doors or ignoring what I’m saying doesn’t surprise me anymore. Most days a shrieking scream of, “I don’t love you” and “You’re not very very nice to me,” sort of roll off my back. Some days though, some days that stuff really stings. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t take it a little personally each time you ignored me or yelled at me or wished out loud that I was someone else.

There’s some good times too though! We also laugh. We laugh in ways that make everything feel like this is how it’s supposed to be. Like, maybe we’re all gonna be okay. We are, right? I mean we have the worst times but they’re smashed right up against the best times. Few things compare to dance parties while making dinner and listening to the Frozen soundtrack or bedtime stories and prayers for better tomorrows. Few things compare to the moments where even though we don’t share a language, we just finally get each other and can roll our eyes at the same screaming four year old knowing we’re in this together and can’t wait for Aunt Lacey to get home and help make us all feel better for the day. Maybe it will be okay. Maybe.

But I guess that’s the tough thing of all this. Today it feels okay, but we’re not really fooling anyone. Because the truth is: we have absolutely no idea how it’s all gonna turn out for any of us. Will we know either of you a year from now? Will the next place you land be a place where you know you’re loved without a doubt? Will you keep growing up to believe you’re unstoppable, beautiful just like you are, and capable of more than anyone treats you like you are? Will you be forgotten again and fall into the darkness of seeking out love in all the wrong ways? The kind of ways that never end up making anything better? I just pray that wherever you go, that someone reminds you of who you were born to be.

I’m overwhelmed at how much you’ve walked through while I’m sitting here on the porch of an overpriced NW grocery store sipping overpriced coffee and feeling guilty that I’m happy to be here on my own instead of coloring or practicing another language so I can communicate better. It’s not that I hate spending time with you guys…it’s just that I’m tired. Lucky for me, I can feel better knowing you get a little tired of being with me too sometimes. We’re all pretty messed up, aren’t we? At least we’ve got that.

Even if it’s not all gonna be okay, at least right now we’ve got a lot of love between the four of us in this falling-apart-in-more-ways-than-one home.
I guess it’s true about love remaining when everything else feels broken and fleeting.

Love you guys (even when I’m not sure how to show it because I’m tired of the ABCs and re-explaining the same thing 47 times),

-Your weird foster dad

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