He came to us in the late night hours…separated from his sibling in an emergency placement. It was only suppose to be for a few days. He was holding a small plastic bag and nothing else.
“What do you have in your bag?” we inquired gently.
“Just my chips from dinner….and this…” He held up a tiny, soft McDonalds toy…”I like to sleep with this.”
We showed him around the house and introduced him to all of our pets. Our own children were sleeping sound in their beds. “Are you tired?” we asked. It was late for such a small child to still be awake and I imagined my own children in melt-down mode at that age. And yet this little guy was as calm and pleasant as could be. But then again, regardless of the hour, how does one sleep when they find themselves entering a strange, new home with uncertain plans and an uncertain future? But he nodded his head “yes.”
We were in awe of his lack of apparent fear, a sign of the hard journey that he’d been on. We gave him some comfy clothes to sleep in and a new toothbrush. And he neatly set his shoes beside his bed. We left a trail of lights on throughout the house, leading to our bedroom, and we retreated so that our eyes could meet and our hearts could break in private. Together, my husband and I imagined our own two children being separated and taken into strange homes in the midnight hour. And our insides ached. I stared at the ceiling for nearly an hour, processing his journey and contemplating ours, before I finally went back to peek-in on him. He was sound asleep…his tiny toy cupped in his small hands.
With only a few hours of rest myself, I was up early the next morning, coffee in hand, ready to greet our newest member when he awoke. I could hear him and my son talking in their beds and it made me smile. And then I heard the door crack. His little self stepped out with a cautious grin, stopped in front of his door and gave me a cheery “Good morning!”, before coming to greet me.
The following three days were well-spent. A trip to the bank- where he got to press the button and shoot the money tube for the first time, the pet store- where we stopped to see every little creature and the grocery store where he picked out a special treat-mangoes! A few new outfits and lots of new experiences, everything for him was new and fun and we had the most wonderful time getting to know one another. We learned that he was a master joke teller, a great helper and an amazing optimist. Everything from him was “Thank you!” and “That’s ok!” and “This is fun!”. He was grateful for every experience, every plate of food and every moment shared. And his most favorite thing to do…was to play board games, especially Candy Land. So we played lots and lots of Candy Land.
By his third night, he began to inquire more about his younger sibling. Unbeknownst to him, I had been calling daily, to try and reach the other foster mom to arrange a play date, all to no avail. As a mother, I was shocked that this wasn’t of upmost priority to every party involved. And on one particular night, when I could sense his unrest, a memory from my youth popped into my head, like a flashback, triggered by his angst, I remembered my own anxiety-filled nights as a child and one way that I used to cope.
I crouched next to his bed and I said “Do you know what I used to do? Sometimes, when I was lying in bed at night, before I’d fall asleep, I would build a city made of sweets, in my head. And then, all night, I’d dream about it.”
He gave me a curious, tell-me-more kind of expression. So I continued…”The walls of my house would be chocolate bars, the stone path would be hard candies…the windows…hmmm…what could be the windows?”
His eyes lit up and I could see the gears beginning to turn in his mind…shifting from uncertain angst to excitement.
“What would the grass be?” he asked.
“Sprinkles!” my son pipped in. “Green sprinkles on chocolate icing.”
“And the street lights would be candy canes!” he exclaimed…and before you knew it, we’d built half the neighborhood. I left him in bed, to build the rest.
When he awoke the next morning, he came to me with a smile. “You were right! I dreamed about my candy city all night!”
“That was a good dream wasn’t it?” I said. And he nodded furiously.
It didn’t take long to realize that we had received the most perfect first foster placement imaginable. He was sweet and well mannered, easy to love and he came with the condition that this placement was temporary. With that expectation, we viewed this placement like a long sleepover, like a friend of my children’s coming to stay for a few days. It would be easier that way, not to get too attached.
And then three days turned into three weeks. And one child, became two.
Through a series of unfortunate events (though fortunate for us), his younger sibling was removed from his placement and we were granted a temporary, emergency over-ride to have both children in our home over Spring Break, even though our license was only for one.
On his brother’s first night with us, we found another set of comfy clothes, even smaller than the ones we found two weeks before. And we reminded him of the lay out of the house and where to find us. Then, I flipped on the small lamp in their bedroom before turning the other lights out.
“Is that light bright?” the tiny sibling asked.
“A little bit” I answered. “Do you like light when you sleep? Or do you like it to be dark?”
His brother answered for him, like big brothers often do…”He likes light. He’s afraid of the dark. The last house he was staying in didn’t use lights at night and he was afraid.”
“It was very dark” the little one chimed in and his eyes got very big when he spoke.
My heart hurt. “Who doesn’t leave a light on for such a small child?” I thought to myself. “Well in this house…we always have light.” I told him. And the symbolism didn’t escape me.
Despite his approval of the brightness of the room, as I went to tuck the two in bed, I could still see angst in the tiny one’s eyes. And so I sat beside him on his bed. And I said “Do you know what I like to think about before I go to sleep?…” and together his big brother and I taught him how to build ‘A City made of Sweets’.
His reaction the following morning was just like his brother’s.
Over the next week, we continued our adventures as a family of six now. They loved the chore of feeding the animals. They loved to sing and dance-particularly when I played music from their country-something no one had done for them since they’d been removed from their parents months before. They loved sandwiches. They loved the dogs. They loved all their new experiences. And they loved to talk and joke and spend time together as a family.
That family experience only heightened when we got the agency to approve of us taking the boys out of state to spend the Easter holiday with my sister. It would be their first holiday in placement and also happened to be their birthday week. So we wanted it to be an extra special time. And it was.
We went to the Zoo, packed a picnic, played Basketball, Frisbee…and board games of course! We had a birthday party, dyed eggs and made crafts. My sister’s family gifted them with stuffed toys and board games. The boys had a nerf war- and their minor disgruntlements over who had more darts was far over-weighed by the saturation of love.
On Easter Sunday, while the littlest foster and I walked together in search of treat-filled plastic eggs, he made reference to a conversation we had had earlier in the week, about spreading love. That conversation, which at the time, turned into a competition of “Who can say the sweetest thing?” had very clearly made an impression on the little boy.
“I have lots of good things to say,” he said. “I want to give love to the world…like you told me.”
“Oh, you have so much love to give the world…” I told him.
Clutching his bag full of eggs and nodding his head furiously, he looked up at me and said…”Yeah…and You taught me that…you did!”
Despite the clear expectation that this was a temporary placement, in those three weeks, we had fallen head-over-heels in love with those two boys. And they with us. And when the day came that they had to leave, (because our temporary “over-ride” was up and the boys needed a placement that could accommodate the state regulations for two), the devastation on their faces nearly broke me.
And for a moment, I questioned the very reason we started this journey in the first place.
We started this journey to be able to show children in need that normalcy and a home of love and joy exists- so that as they grew, they would know what they could achieve if they strived for it. And when I told those little faces that they were going to leave, it was as if I yanked an ice cream cone out of their hands and threw it away in front of them. Like after a lifetime of never experiencing chocolate, I gave them a taste and then took it away. And for a brief time, I questioned if by having them these past three weeks, we had made everything worse. If they had never tasted the sweetness of a loving, structured and supportive family, could they have been saved from the pain of now missing it? In giving them a gift that was destined to be taken away, did we only hurt them more?
But once the hurt settled a little, I began to remember the many sweet memories we made together, the new experiences and the lessons in love… the times they told me that they learned new things from me and the times I watched their uncertain angst melt into a relaxed feeling of safety. I felt affirmed that despite my own hardships growing up, I had in fact, created a happy home. While not a perfect Mom, I am a good one. And despite my earlier discouragements, three weeks of happiness was in fact, better than none.
While I settled them into the back seat of the social worker’s car… I kissed their faces and wiped their tears, holding back my own. “Take all the love and joy that we had here… and spread it wherever you go.” I told them. “That is your job. That is what you came here to learn. I want you to teach the world how to love.”
They pulled out of the drive, clutching their new stuffed toys- a red dino and a brown monkey. There was a duffle bag full of new clothes and shoes, two Easter baskets and a gift bag full of games- Chutes and Ladders, Uno, Trouble…and Candy Land.
I waved until the car was out of sight, stepped into the house… and my own liquid heartbreak ran down my face. But underneath that sadness, was a strong sense of hope.
That night, when I settled into bed, the first in three weeks, with only two children in my home, I pictured my other two lying in different beds. And I hoped that wherever they were… In their hearts, the seeds of love that we had planted were and would forever grow… and I hoped that in their heads… they were building A City Made of Sweets.
