Recently, I sat in my garden surrounded by my flowers, and I cried. I cried for the loss of a little girl. See, I’m an apartment manager; I’ve been in this business for nine years. I have watched families come and go, and even watch children grow up. Six months ago, a little girl walked into my office all bright and full of smiles. She said, “My name is Cheyanne and I live with my auntie. I don’t live with my mommy anymore, cause mommy does bad things.” Then she said that her daddy was in prison, cause he did bad things. She said all this in such a matter-of-fact way that it made me very sad. She fast became part of my day and more, part of my heart.
Cheyenne’s aunt and uncle are wonderful and selfless people; they took in all three kids along with their own three. It was very tough, so her auntie had to quit her job in order to take care of them all. The hardest part to unerstand was they got very little help with the added expenses to care for the children. If they were a foster family they would have gotten more financial, medical and daycare help. But because they were family they didn’t qualify. What is wrong with this picture?
The other day Cheyanne came to my office full of tears. She would be moving into foster care and she said she didn’t want to go. I held her tight and we both cried. She said, “I’m afraid” with tears running down her little face. My heart is broken knowing that this little girl has been through so much in her five years. I am in fact furious at the idea that this could have been prevented, but worse – I’m afraid.
Everett
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