A Place to Write

J asked me yesterday if I've ever thought about what kind of legacy I want to leave when I die. No, to be honest, I haven't. Even when Michelle died and my grandpa died I thought plenty about the legacy they were leaving--but not my own. He said for him he has. He didn't know if he would leave a legacy anywhere--because he moves around so much--but he said the legacy he wants to leave is he just wants people to know he tried to be the best person he could be. Couple things I want to clarify for him (though in the moment I just nodded, listened and continued eating my burrito) 1. You are remembered. No one has forgotten you. You may feel like they have, but they haven't. I was afraid, just like you were, that maybe someone had. When I took you back to Sunshine to visit friends I was so terribly worried no one would say anything to you. But they did. They remembered. You had left an impact. They hugged you, they showed you pictures, they celebrated your accomplishm

I’m a writer by trade. I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I love to put my feelings into words. Yet, in the last month, I’ve been having a very difficult time vocalizing what’s happening in my life. It’s not because it’s been sad or difficult or anything like that. It’s mostly because there is someone new in my life who I care very deeply for who I feel this deep need to protect. I want to protect his identity, his story, his life. I don’t want to overstep any boundaries or crush any trust. I recognize the life he has lived has not been easy and so I tread lightly on this relationship we’ve built. But honestly—it’s a fantastic relationship. He’s an amazing kid. I’ve been asked to write a blog post for an organization that helps recruit foster parents about the first few weeks of being a foster parent. I’m having difficulty deciding what to write. I feel like anything I write about my case probably won’t apply to their case so it’s not very helpful. I keep writing drafts and then

J warned us weeks ago Easter would not be a happy time. My natural reaction was "It's going to be the best ever if I have anything to say about it!" I started taking special notes of candy he likes. I found a store where I could buy Mexican candy for dirt cheap and filled an Easter basket with all his favorites. All the while I knew, it might not work. Friday with my family went well. Saturday he actually traveled with me for work and we enjoyed playing cards all day and occasionally sharing info about foster care with people who passed by our table. Sunday things were also going well for most of the day. He said church wasn't bad. He liked his candy. He loved dinner. Afterwards we did another Easter egg hunt. I snapped a picture of him. He asked me to stop, and I did. After the Easter egg hunt while all the other kids opened their eggs and explored their treasures he left the crowd and laid in the grass. He told Brendon he was mad at me for taking the picture.

I've had a little bit of writer's block. Not sure how much to share or what to share. J has been in our home for two and a half weeks. He's still a great kid. No regrets. I have been able to confirm a few rumors people tried to warn me about: Teenage boys eat a lot. J's snack of choice is cereal and he will go through a box a day if we let him. We set a limit of two bowls--and suddenly our large serving bowls are being used. We told him if he runs out of cereal by Tuesday he'll have to find something else for breakfast. Teenage boys smell. Sometimes they need to be told this. It's not offensive when it's true. Teenage boys are loud. A house full of crazy teenage boys is crazy. Even when I send them outside I'm afraid they'll wake up the neighbors. They run and chase and jump on the trampoline and they are LOUD. Some other rumors I've been able to confirm: DCS is a tricky organization. They have so much that they HAVE to do because they