I wished someone would adopt me. Often when we’d go out to eat I’d bring my mom a hair clip and ask her to place it in my hair just so. I knew I looked especially cute with my hair pulled back and any prospective parents would have a hard time turning away from a sweet little girl who’s hair was in a pretty clip. My spot in the van was a window seat directly behind the driver. My brothers and sisters filled the other five spots and when dad heard each of the click-clicks of our six seat buckles we were on our way.
I really turned on the charm at stop lights when we would pull up next to other cars. I’d lean my head to the window with a somber look on my face and than put a hand gently against the glass the way I’d seen broken hearted women do in the movies. For added drama, if I had an audience, I sadly mouthed the word “help!” to get my message across. I was sure that someday a nice couple would see that such a sweet, quiet looking girl deserved a home with two parents to dote only on her and spoil her rotten. They would see that I was surrounded by the chaos of a too big family with parents who clearly did not understand how wonderful I was.
They would approach my mom and dad with an offer they couldn’t refuse. They would give me my own room, a kitten, a puppy and pizza every night for dinner. I’d be able to stay up late and eat ice cream and watch movies. My new mom would sit me on my lap and stroke my hair and tell me how pretty I was. My new Dad would toss me in the air and laugh at all my jokes. My life would be perfect.
No Bad Ass farting in my face and then waving the smell from between his legs with his hands to circulate it throughout the room. No Bianca bossing me around. No Nice One forcing me to help her with her paper route in the freezing cold for free. No Smart Ass refusing to give me my turn on Zelda. No Baby stealing things from my side of the room.
Sibling free. That was the life for me.
If only some nice couple would look my way at the stoplight.
It never worked.
I don’t think I was cute enough.