I Was Always Dreaming Of My Forever Home

This is my story

My name is Isabella and I am just three years old.

It is difficult for me to explain the first part of my life.

I do not remember parts of it. Most of it I do not understand.

I remember my feelings more than I do the actual happenings.

There were good things, but most were scary and made me sad.

I do remember being held gently by my mother, cuddling with her, curled up next to her when I slept. I remember how she smelled, her voice, her touch. She made me feel safe.

Then everything changed.

That is when the warm cuddles stopped, and the loud noises began. The fast movements, my Mom and Dad yelling, the sounds of them throwing things, doors slamming.

It would scare me, so I would hide, leaving the room and finding a hidey-hole, somewhere safe.

I would go outside whenever I could. A neighbor across the street would always wave at me, so I would stand at the end of the driveway and watch for him. He was friendly and he always smiled.

That is where I went the day I lost my Mom and Dad.

I will always wonder what happened to change my parent. My Mom loved me, I know she did and I thought my Dad did too, but he was the one who changed.

He was the one who killed my Mom.

They had a big fight that day, and my Mom told me to run. I was so scared, and I did not want to leave her.

I hid behind the couch, and I heard all the yelling. I saw my Dad hit my Mom. I saw her fall, and I listened to the sound when her head hit first the door edge and then the floor.

She lay there and did not move. Dad just stood there looking at her. He pushed her with his foot. She did not move, and my Dad ran out of the house.

From behind the couch, I waited, and I cried. I called to her, and I ran out and touched her. Silence filled the house — no sound, just my sobs to fill the void.

I laid down beside her, trying to cuddle, asking her to wake up, and telling her it would be okay in my little child’s voice. I felt the warmth seep out of her.

That is when I stood up and with tears streaming down my face, I went outside and walked down the driveway. I stood there at the end, waiting.

The neighbor saw me there, and he waved and smiled, but then he stopped and looked at me.

My Mom’s blood covered me, and he could see the tears and hear my sobbing.

He ran to me, scooped me up, and took me inside his house.

The police came then. They asked me questions, and then a policewoman came and took me away.

I never saw my parents again.

For a time, I disappeared too. That is how it felt. I wanted to. Maybe if people could not see me they would leave me alone, and I could go wherever my Mom went. I wanted to be with her.

Sometimes now I can talk about it. Back then I couldn’t; I did not talk at all.

Remember I was very young, just three years old, almost four.

So you have to realize I did not understand the why of it at all. I did not have any concept of what had happened.

I did understand that I was alone and my parents were gone, probably forever. That is what they told me, but I would dream about them.

Sometimes the dreams were nightmares. Most were about my Mom remembering her voice and the way she smelled. I missed her so much.

I spent my days not understanding and not talking. I searched for a hidey-hole and found a few, but they always found me curled up in a ball. They had experienced hidey-hole finders at the place where they had taken me.

They called it a shelter, but it wasn’t. It was just a big noisy house. Other kids lived there with me and they all added their troubled voices.

They were all different, some younger than me, just babies, and some quite a bit older. No one was happy, and most of us were scared. At night crying broke the silence.

During the day, people would come to the house. They would sometimes want to visit with me. At first, I was really scared, and then I started to get used to it.

Some of the other kids would leave with what they called foster parents. If you were adopted, they said you were lucky. I wasn’t sure what they meant. I just knew the kids never came back, and for me, that was scary. What happened to them?

Then one day, a man and woman wanted to visit with me, and afterward, I heard them talking to one of the women who worked here. They were asking all kinds of questions.

I had questions too. I did not know how to ask them.

They left, and I thought I would never see them again, but they came back the next week. We spent more time together. They were nice. The woman had a soft voice, and she smiled at me and looked directly into my eyes. I liked her.

I started to dream at night about having a forever home. What would it be like? I did not realize that there was about to be a big change in my life.

I was going to be adopted.

When they talked to me about it, I was frightened, but then I dreamed about it. I liked the way they smiled at me and talked to me. Maybe it would be okay.

In the dream, I remember my real mother, her touch, her smell, her voice, and then somehow the other woman, the woman who will be my new Mom, is there in my dream too.

I will never forget the day they came and took me home with them. It was frightening, but it made me smile. Would this be my forever home?

Now I live on a small farm. There is a big red barn, a pond, and a gazebo.

My life is so different now. I have never lived in the country and there has been so much to learn.

There are flowers everywhere. My new Mom loves flowers, and we spend a lot of time in her gardens.

It is nice there, quiet, and we talk. Sometimes I curl up and sleep next to her.

I am home-schooled and my new mom teaches me about everything. Learning about nature is my favorite. Maybe it is because so many animals wander in and out of our yard.

There are all kinds of birds, including a Green Heron that shrieks as it flies into the trees near the pond. Sometimes we see Great Blue Herons, and there are lots of Canadian Geese.

Once a snapping turtle jumped at me, hissing. It was really fast, and it frightened me. It was in the garden and my mom said it was laying eggs.

I see animal footprints in the snow and the soft dirt, and I can identify them now. There are deer, rabbit, and fox prints.

At night I hear coyotes. The noise frightens me.

There are so many animal sounds to learn. Deer make a screeching sound at night that is loud and scary. My Mom told me it is the sound they make when they are startled or sense danger.

That surprised me. Before I was adopted I never said anything when I was frightened. I would run and hide.

One of the sounds I really like at night is listening to the screech of the Barn Owl. That sound binds me to the owl. I feel it is my kindred spirit. The sound of its voice reminds me of the shrieking in my head the day my Mom died. It was the sound that echoed in my head and kept me from talking.

That sound is gone from my head now, but somehow listening to the barn owl will always tie me to my Mom.

Sometimes when I dream at night the sounds intertwine and weave a new story — a story filled with love, warm snuggles, and the soft voice of my mothers.

Time has gone by so quickly. I am eight years old now, going on nine.

I am happy. There are no more nightmares and no hidey-hole, just peaceful places to curl up and take naps.

Today I awaken with the sound of the barn owl echoing in my dream.

I slowly open my eyes to the light, stretch, and raise my head. I move and sit next to my Mom, lean over and rub my head against hers. My whiskers tickle her face and my cold nose awakens her.

She smiles and reaches out, pulling me close to snuggle.

Isabella, my sweet cat, good morning: I love you.