I opened the door and walked out. I used to walk with my nabor. But he told me to grow up, take care of myself. If only he realized that I was already doing that. It was fun walking with Andrew. That's my neighbor. But like I said, he told me to do something on my own, and that he wasn' gonna baby me anymore. He knows part of who I am, where I come from. Every Sunday, when I walk out that door alone, I am so aware of the fact that I am alone.
I go to the Sunday School Classroom. I speak to Ms. Don. It hurts. Brooke and Alex have such a great mom and such a great life and they're always complaining and being spoiled brats.
The class ends. I go upstairs and talk to other adults or read the book I ussually bring. I don't feel right talking to the other kids. Because that's what they are. But they think that they're adults. They have so much to learn.
I sit down.... All alone..... And watch the happy families and couples come in and sit down. A sadness comes into me, one that has becom normal for me.
I talk to Angie Ochoa. The woman has become a mother to me. She was the first to take me to church. I owe her my faith. My faith saved my life.
She always gives me clothes. She always has to adjust it her, or fix that. It makes me want to cry because of the all the love I feel. And that thing that I am missing. And for the thousandth time, I wish I had been born into her family instead.
At church, when I ask a bajillion questions, they're oh so patient with me.
They're so in love. I can see it and it makes me smile. The small touches, the glances, everything. It gives me hope. Hope that one day, everything will change for the better.
It feels odd to see all these families come in, and know that I'm all alone. It makes me feel bitter hearing kids complain about coming, knowing thatr I come of my own free will, that my parents are dissapointed that I go to church.
I come.... All alone.