For a lesson in heartbreak, ask a foster child what superpower she would choose if she could. I did, this evening, and her answer was, “Read minds.” I feel like those two sentences ought to tell a story in and of themselves, but my view may be colored by my second-hand exposure to the issues. Her parents’ long-standing neglect hit a little more consciously this week, when her mother didn’t bother to schedule a visit with her. One phone call, free transportation from the state, three hours’ commitment. Told by her foster provider that her father has been “sick” lately, kiddo said, “I know he does drugs.” Meanwhile, her foster family, whom she clearly loves with all her yearning soul, would not be able to keep her even if she hadn’t started acting out and creating divisions among them. My theory, not especially perceptive: She knows her fate won’t lie with them, and she simply cannot bear it. Because she can’t bear it, she’ll likely be moved all the sooner. But when? Where to? How will she be treated? Will she ever feel at home, ever belong? The ability to read minds would give her a map, a compass. The country itself would likely be no less hard.
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