It all looks so normal—any
family anywhere—
it’s almost enough to
make you forget
how abnormal this “family”
really is. Two
artificial parents; two
orphans. One
total mystery. And me.
LIGHTS, GARLAND, AND ORNAMENTS HUNG
The tree still looks sad to me.
It’s not that the decorations
are old (and they are). It’s that
they were all arranged without love.
This isn’t the first loveless Christmas
I’ve spent. Foster homes, however
solid, are all barren of that emotion.
You don’t dare care about someone
you probably won’t know in a year.
But I’ve had beautiful holidays
with both sets of grandparents—
Carl and Jean. Scott and Marie.
The ones with Grandma Marie
were especially special because
Hunter was there too. My brother.
The one I hardly ever get to see.
But when I do, he’s always pretty
much amazing to me. Because
he gets to be with his sister (me).
The one he hardly ever gets to see.