A Fantasy Break

Arriving at the yellow house, I became very excited. I hadn’t seen my family in awhile. You see, my brother, Kenny, and I were adopted into the Trotter family. Our other birth siblings went to other families; the Brown’s, our grandparents, a group home. Lucky for me, they all lived close-at least at the time the big gate came into my view.1

It seemed huge to me because I was only five at the time. I remembered this gate being more massive just earlier that year while hunting for Easter Eggs in the driveway/backyard. To me, that seemed like a long time ago since it was already almost time for Santa to come around.2

That’s why we were gathering. To eat food, have fun, and exchange Christmas gifts. We pulled up into the driveway, already seeing several cars parked, and my mom parked the car herself. The door was open and I could see the red brick floor in the hallway, hearing the distant voices of my relatives. I couldn’t wait to see them, but first I had to help my mom carry in some of the presents. 3

She gave me two, bright packages and I half ran, half stumbled into the doorway. I had two choices: to go the right or to the left. To the right, there was a hallway, still in the red brick floor, and several bedrooms. To the left, there were two brick steps leading into a large carpeted living room where I heard voices.4

Needless to say, I chose the left. My five year old legs went down the steps and onto the beige Carpet, my arms deposited the packages in a pile near the couch, and I ran up two more red brick steps onto a red brick floor-right smack into my grandmother.5

We hugged and she told me to go outside where the other kids were. I did, but before I totally got out, I heard my mother and Kenny start talking to my grandmother. I went to play with my sister and brother, Sarah and Lance, and Kenny joined us a few minutes later. We all played for a bit, and when we were called in, I noticed a tree house.6

I was told we could play in it after dinner and hustled inside. All of us, the children and the grownups, gathered in the living room to open presents. We handed each other what we bought, the children automatically getting more. And then it was announced that it was time for dinner.7

My grandmother said grace, and we all dug in. I sat next to my grandfather, Pat, and Sarah’s adopted mom, Mrs. Brown. Half-way through, my grandmother told me to slow down or else I wouldn’t have room for her famous chocolate pie.8

After we finished eating, other than for desert, the adults said they were too full for sweet stuff right then, so we were told to go play outside until it was time for desert. I don’t know who first suggested all this, but if I could go back in time and figure it out, I probably still would be a little mad at them today.9

The kids rushed out of the dining room; Lance and Kenny to play video games, and Sarah and I to play in the tree house. We clambered up the white steps and started to pretend we were princesses locked in a tower. There was a little loft in the house, and when Sarah climbed up, so did I.10

We were having so much fun, but then decided we wanted some of that chocolate cake. Sarah told me to watch her, and then proceeded to get down in a fancy way. Since I was two years younger, when I tried to copy her, disaster stuck.11

I fell on my left arm and it hurt so much! We retreated inside on the double to tell someone, and as my grandmother was about to grab my arm to see what was wrong, my mom yelled, “Stop!” My arm was hanging in a weird way, and most likely was broken. I was rushed off to the hospital.12

Kenny was left there, we were in so much of a hurry. At the hospital, I was crying really loud, that they had to see me first. And yes, my arm was broken. It was bad, too. The doctor’s thought they might need to do surgery on it.13

When I left the hospital, we went home; Kenny stayed at that yellow house for the night. I was in huge amounts of pain, but somehow the morning came. My mom and I went to pick up my brother, and was late to school because he couldn’t find his belt. Ironically, it was found in the tree house.14

I never did get my chocolate cake, and to this day, I have never tasted it. My grandparents moved away, with my older brother, Lance, a year later, to Chicago. I lost touch with them for over eight years. Then in my junior year of high school, Lance contacted me, and we have gotten to be really close siblings again. But sitting at that dinner table with my grandfather Pat was the last time I ever saw him. He’s up in Chicago-and he won’t come visit for some reason. I just have to wait a little while more to go visit him, I guess.15

I think that this memory has made me think about my life some. It was the beginning of not knowing my family when I had the choice. My sister Sarah was allowed to go visit Lance every year, but I never got too. So I believe I took this “hatred” out on her. That has faded with time, as well as me being able to see Lance now. Breaking my arm has made me realize now that I was lucky for most of my life-most adopted children don’t stay in contact with their birth family, but they had lived literally next door to me until my grandparents decided to retire. Sarah still does.16