It was a Monday.
I had been home from basic training for about a month.
I was back in the swing of civilian life.
I was sitting in my office working on another Dissolution Petition.
I got a call.
Surprisingly, this wasn’t the first call I had since being home.
This one seemed different. I didn’t say no. I asked to talk to my husband first.
Our license is for kids ages 0-10.
This was a 10-year-old girl, needing moved within a few days.
The story on the phone was eerily familiar.
We’ll do it.
The next day she arrived.
The all too familiar knots in my stomach were there as I waited.
But something was different this time.
Wide-eyed and mouth open, she walked in.
I was so stressed out because we only had a twin sized bed in her room. We didn’t know which call we’d say yes to, so we had to disassemble the crib that day as well. We would get a dresser that evening, but it wasn’t there when she arrived.
She didn’t notice.
She was thrilled to have her own room.
“Will I have a dad?”
“Something you need to know about me is…….”
“So, I have a brother here?”
“I’m an extremely neat person.”
“Do you drink?”
“My old Mommy….”
That’s what was different.
She’s no stranger to the system.
This time it’s different.
My role is different.
She needs something different.