My First Foster Home

   Social services sent my three brothers and I to our first foster home somewhere near Vernon and Hoover St. in East Los Angeles. People are paid to have kids like myself in their homes. The money can be good if they watch the expenses.

   The foster mother was a single unemployed mom who had a son named Isaiah. We almost never interacted with him even when we went to school. She purposely kept us separate from him. When we did see him he would tell us he was going to kill as many people as he could when he grew up. I’m glad we didn’t interact with him. He had his own big room full of colorful toys including cool lego’s. Our toys consisted of drawing paper, a GI joe, pick up sticks, chinese checkers, colored pencils and a a couple of puzzles. We had the sames toys for the full time we were there.

   My three brothers and I had a living space of two rooms which were connected. Within that space each of us had a two foot invisible barrier we were not allowed to cross or else we would be beaten, go to bed hungry (which we were all the time anyways), wrapped in a blanket or shut in a small dark closet which smelled like mothballs. I quickly became the model child real quickly because I was the youngest of the brothers. Most of the time we just sat on our beds or the floor next to it.

   The older brothers found ways to break the rules by a few feet. Eventually the older ones would begin to run away. The police who looked like tall muscular giants would bring them back. My oldest brother always found a way to escape,only to be dragged back again and again.

   We rarely were allowed to go outside or even open the window shades and look outside. If and when we did go outside we could only sit on the porch. Once in a while we could play on the front sidewalk. Under no circumstances were ever allowed to cross the street. We had to walk to school and came directly home afterward.

  Once a week she would take us to the Ralphs supermarket which was over a two mile walk. One highlight was crossing over the freeway on the walkway. The view and the noise of the freeway was exciting to a little boy like me.

   Once we got to the store we had to sit on the dogfood bags at the front near the grocery cashiers. It was a highlight for us because the Ralphs manager made funny noises every time he poked us in our belly button.

Shoe laces

    I remember sitting on a chair looking toward the front window on a bright spring day. The wooden doors reflected with light coming from the window. My brothers were outside playing. I could hear them having fun. I wanted to play outside so badly. She wouldn’t let me. Mrs Garcia. 

I had to learn to tie my shoes before I could go outside. She stayed with me while I struggled. I wanted to quit but she wouldn’t let me go anywhere till I figured it out. I was determined and reached deep in myself. I remember the moment of realization when looping the last lace. I did it!  What a sense of power and accomplishment I felt. Quickly as I looked down at my newly laced shoes, went through the kitchen, through the laundry room to the back porch door. I ran outside smiling from ear to ear. We had a yard that seemed so big I couldn’t see the other end. My brothers had dug a hole. How exciting! I ran down the wooden stairs and jumped in . Wow! 

    What are those little red things crawling around…..ouch!!  Ouch that hurts.  Tears welled up in my eyes. My finger burned  like fire. An ant bite me. I did not like it one bit. My brothers brought me up the stairs to the back screen door. My fun didn’t last long. I was finding out the outside had things that can hurt me. I didn’t get to go back down the stairs so I sat on the top stairs breathing in the wonder of the outdoors. It was rare we were ever let outside. This was one time I would take in as much as I could. The sun, the breeze, the smell of the dirt, the sound of the birds.  I like this. I like it a lot