I have strong memories of our life before we were adopted.
Most of these memories are not pleasant to remember. But time has eroded these memories into little snapshots. Brief moments in time blurred by age.
Thankfully, I no longer dream about these memories. I think my mind protects me even in my sleep and for this I am grateful.
Six months before we were finally adopted, we were placed with a family who were considering adopting us.
I try to remember that during the early to mid 1970s adopting two children who were certainly far from infancy was not common. As a matter of fact, it was pretty damn rare. Our poor social worker had her hands full I'm sure. It's remembering this that I'm able to forgive Children's Home Society of their ignorance.
As a seasoned ward of the state I knew this "trial adoption" was a farce. I wondered though why they were considering us. Only now do I imagine it could have been out of some sense of guilt perhaps. Maybe not.
We lived with them and their 9 year old son for three excruciatingly long months.
There are pictures of us celebrating Christmas and my brother's birthday. Presents piled high on top of a hideously orange shag carpet.
In those pictures we look like children of war. Dazed and confused. Completely lacking of any emotion.
Looking at them, I often wonder what I was thinking at that exact moment. Did I know how bleak our future was even at such a young age of 5 and 6?
I think I did. I knew adults were not to be trusted. Which now thinking back makes me sad.
Many memories have been long forgotten. Stored away in some deep corner of my brain. I'm thankful my brain protects me from these memories.
I don't need to remember them to know they are true...that they really did happen to two little children.
It was my childhood, such as it was.