Thursday, September 10, 2009
It's Just The Way It Is
Up in my very large room, you can't even see my bed as it's around a corner, but that bit of yellow in the distance is a single trundle bed where Nando sleeps. He's slept there for years as he's adjusted to our family, only three when he came here, wide-eyed, traumatized and frightened, hanging on tightly to his big sister, Sabrina, who he called MeMaw, as she'd been his only parental figure.
Every morning after the kids have gone to school, I return upstairs to make the beds and get myself going for the morning.
Every single night, he and all of my other children adopted from the foster care system, every single one of them, rip their sheets off the beds, tangle them into balls, the blankets or comforters as well. They all dislike pillows with a passion.
Sometimes I find entire mattresses and boxsprings slung on the floor, bed frames get destroyed.
I have no explanation at all. It's just the way it is.