It is so not fair.
T, it isn’t fair that sleeping under a social worker’s desk because you don’t have a bed is normal to you. The fact that you say “I normally don’t have a placement” with such a neutral tone, as if remarking on the weather, is one of the saddest things I have heard in a long time. Sweet son of my heart, I wish there was more I could do for you.
B, it isn’t fair that you are so hurt and angry you are afraid to let down your walls. It isn’t fair that you have been kicked out without warning so many times that you don’t even know what the word “family” or “home” is supposed to mean. I wish I could take the pain from you.
ML, it isn’t fair that your life is being lived in a state of limbo. I know you are confused, that you love your mom and yet are afraid to go back to her. I know you have been hurt much more than the social workers and therapists even know. All I can give you is a safe home while the storm rages around you. I wish it were more.
All of my children are scattered to the four winds tonight. All of them are in different homes, and all of them feel alone. I don’t even know where many of them are. But if any kid who has ever stayed with me ever wants to know, they are not forgotten. I haven’t forgotten a single one, and I miss all of them. Dear ones, I love you and I miss you. I have given you all I have, and I will continue to do so, but I am so sorry that it isn’t enough. I wish I had more to give.