The Group at the Home

The summer was over and it had been just a bit over a year since I had come to the Children's Home. I had changed so very much! When I arrived at the home, I was a terrified, saddened, dissapointed and frightened young girl. Through the year, I had opened my mind to joys and treasures that I did not know I could be a part of. I had learned to overcome fear, learned to trust, learned to be a friend and to have a friend, learned compassion, love, kindness and so much more. In one year, I learned to be a gracious person, laying aside jealousy, anger, frustration and a lack of self-worth. Now, don't for a moment believe that I had found all the answers, certainly I had only scratched the surface of a life worth living and believing in. Truthfully, there would be other obstacles that I would meet in the future, some so devastating that I would embrace the thought that life was not worth living, but for the present time, I was enjoying being Joselli. Being Joselli meant that I knew that there was safety if I relied on myself only. I could not place my trust in anyone, because that meant getting hurt, but on the other hand, I knew that being trustworthy brought many rewards. This is where I found my joy. Being trustworthy gave me freedoms that other kids did not have. I could pretty much do what I wanted, as the matron knew that she could trust me. I accepted something else that gave me peace. I had decided that Mother had done the best she could for us, and leaving us in the home was a decision that she made with the best of intentions. I could not fault her for this, she loved us and had found a way to make sure we would be provided for. In a way, it was the ultimate sacrifice, being apart from her children for their own good. Okay, at least it was an excuse that I could live with, and that took the blame from my shoulders. I no longer felt it was my fault that we were in the home. Then, there was my father. He wrote to tell me that he was getting released from prison, and that he would come and see us when he could. I had no concept of exactly when that would be, I only knew that one day I would see him again. That was a closet full of memories and anxieties that I would have to deal with eventually. To narrow all of this down, I had come to a point in my life that classified difficulties in the order by which I could deal with them. By neatly placing my skeletons in mental cubicles and locking them away, I opened up my life so that I could enjoy the things that were available to me and using them, could become a young lady full of joy and peace. So, the school year started. Each morning, we were up with the alarm, cleaned our rooms and made our beds, got dressed and went to the dining room. Nothing had changed here. But after breakfast, instead of walking through the little town of Hapeville Georgia, we would walk the long walk to the bus stop and wait for the bus. This was a time to talk and visit with each other. We would see the boys too, and looked forward to being with them. The boys that were our age, were the usual teenaged boys. Of course, they came from difficult backgrounds such as the girls had, but since we were all in the same boat, we took comfort in the familiarity. There were a few couples, but for the most part, we were all a group and enjoyed being so. The trip back into Hapeville from Palmetto was about 40 miles. This gave us plenty of time to talk and visit, and we really enjoyed the bus ride each morning. This group was our family. We watched out for each other at school, and took up for each other when there was a difficulty. When I say difficulty, I mean things not out of the ordinary, but things that were hurtful to a member of the group individually. One time, as I went to sign my name on the sheet in the cafeteria so that I could get my lunch, someone loudly remarked that I was signing the "Orphan List". They went on to ridicule the kids from the home, saying that we were poor and nothing more than a bunch of orphans. Other kids took up the cause, and began to remark that we had ratty clothes and that nobody wanted us. That was why we were in the home. In the midst of all of this, one of the larger boys from the home stepped up to the instigator, pulled back a ham of a fist and punched that kid right in the mouth. The kid flew backwards, slammed into a table, toppled the table and fell face down on the floor. Without looking at the damage, the boy from the home challenged anyone else who may have something to say about us. No one did. When a teacher came running over to see what happened, none of us would admit what we had seen. The other kids were afraid to say anything, and so nothing more was done about the incident. There was no more said about the "Orphan list" from anyone. It felt so good to be a part of something, and I truly began to love our group. It wasn't long after school started that I got the idea to get the group together for a dance in the gym at the home. I first asked Mrs. Thompson, and then she suggested that I ask the administrator for permission. The first opportunity, I asked the administrator and he thought it was a good idea. He told me to take care of all the details, and it was fine with him. I was so excited! We had not had a dance before, and I knew it would be great fun. I roped Mindy into helping me, and some of the other girls as well. We planned food, music and decorations. For the next few weeks, I was busy baking and freezing cookies and getting the last details done. Then, one saturday night in the early fall, the dance was held. All that day, the girls had been getting ready, rolling their hair, ironing clothes and putting on makeup. We decorated with balloons, streamers and tablecloths, and one of the houseparents found an old mirror ball to hang from the ceiling. I was so excited and happy, I had the idea from the start and now the whole thing was coming together. At six P.M., the doors were opened and the older kids from the home streamed into to gym. Exclaiming at the decor, groups were formed and the dance began. Some of the couples paired off, but most of us hung together in our group. The music was lively, some from the Beatles, some from Elvis and so forth. Punch and cookies were consumed in a constant stream, and fortunately I had baked enough to keep replenishing the dishes. There were chips, popcorn, my famous brownies and even a large bowl of hard candy. I was surprised and happy when some of the boys asked me to dance. When one dance was over, another boy asked me for the next one. It never occurred to me that this was due to anything more than friendship. I had no designs that any of them took me seriously, and that was fine with me. In spite of the time with Henry, I didn't have the confidence anyway to have a one-on-one relationship with any of them. The music played on, the dancing continued and then someone got the idea to play a game. It was called choo-choo. Here's how it went. A boy or girl would start by choosing a partner of the opposite sex and "choo-choo" like a train into the other room. Then, they would come back out, and the person on the end of the train would chose someone else of the opposite sex. The train would go back into the other room and come back out to choose someone else. We all waited with anticipation to be chosen, because we didn't know what was going on in the other room. Finally, I was chosen. I put my arms around the waist of the boy who had chosen me, and we "choo-chooed" into the other room. Then, to my surprise, the first boy turned around and lightly kissed the girl behind him, she kissed the boy behind her and so on until it came to be my turn. I was terrified. What if I messed up? What if I slobbered on the boy? What if? What if? Then, seening that it was my turn, I pursed my lips, closed my eyes and leaned in for my kiss. But, I didn't get a kiss, but a smack on the cheek! I squealed in surprise and everyone laughed good naturedly. That was the joke of the game, to make you think you had to kiss someone, and then wait for them to get ready and lightly smack them instead. It was really funny, and I was glad when it was my turn to choose someone. I too, delivered a smack, but only after I did actually lightly kiss the boy that had chosen me. Everyone thought the game was great fun, and we talked about it for days to come. Before we knew it, the party had to come to a close. We wanted to stay on dancing and such, but I knew that we had to prove our trust, and so I insisted that we clean up and get back to the cottages by the appointed time. That night, I reveled in the wonderful time I had had at the dance. I got so many compliments and over and over was asked to do it again soon. I went to bed, hugging my stuffed pig and thanked Heavenly Father for the wonderful time we had all had. I looked forward to the bright future of fun and companionship that I felt was a part of living in the home.