Last night, I was talking about our plans to move to Florida and I was discussing the last time the whole family was in an RV for three weeks straight. Tonight, I wanted to think back to the first time I ever went on vacation to Florida, back when I was six years old.
After my little brother and sister were no longer with us, my parents and I just didn't know what to do with ourselves. We were so sad, and my parents wanted to cheer me (and themselves) up as best as they could. So they planned an escape to the happiest place on earth: Disney World.
We figured that we would try to leave all of our sadness (and the snowy cold) in New York and enjoy a nice little break from reality.
Because I was only six, I'm a little fuzzy on the timeline, but somewhere around here, we also discussed whether or not we would continue to do foster care. After so much pain and sorrow from saying good bye to our first foster children, we didn't know if we could go through it again. But in all of my childhood wisdom (hey, I'm allowed to brag about the one awesome thing I've done in my life!) I said something like, "We're not going to help kids anymore because it makes us sad?" I'm sure my mom can comment with what I actually said, because I swear she remembers the exact sentence all these years later. And that was a turning point for us... We decided to continue doing foster care, and when vacation was over, we came back to New York and just days later we took in our next foster child. That little boy turned out to be the first child we ever adopted: my first forever brother.
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