First Impressions (story)

"Hello," I say kind of shyly. It's the first time we see each other.

“Hi." Mr. runs over and pumps my hand. Almost scares me to death.

"Hi," back I say.

"Well Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, here he is...Jeremy Wilson." The Children's Aid Worker looks around the room.

I don't know if I'm supposed to get off my chair. I mean I already shook hands. And I already said "Hi" and "Hello." Maybe I should do it again, "Hi...Hello!" Seems kind of dumb.

"Jeremy. My name is Ann Lawrence," and she gives me a hug. Some of her hair tickles my face.

I pretend to be looking at the Teddy Bear poster on the wall. When you're twelve going on thirteen, you learn to hide your inside feelings. I'm the one who has to go to a foster home. I don't know why mom said she couldn’t handle me anymore. It's not really fair.

"I won't pee the bed anymore," I say out loud.

"He promises to try and improve," the Social Worker answered.

"And I won't eat so many sweets either," I add. Maybe I said too much already. I need to go to their home. I can change so my mom and dad will take me back.

"I see you have glasses," Mr. Lawrence said. "You might think this strange, but you look like me when I was your age."

I adjust my glasses and look at him again. When I look at someone eye to eye, I raise my head a little. Some people say I'm stuck up when I do this.

But I'm not.

Mrs. Lawrence looks pretty too and her husband is sort of bald. She's short. And I answer questions, about where I live and how I like school.

"Are you ready to go today to stay with the Lawrence's?" I knew the question would finally come.

It would be a new home for a while, new people. The Children's Aid said I could return home after a period of time. In the meantime I could even have visits with my parents.

I know it can work out.

"Yes."

The Lawrence's and Children's Aid worker look pleased. I hang my head.

"What's wrong Jeremy?" Mrs. Lawrence asks. "We really want you to come live with us."

"Will I become your son?" I heard stories about Children's Aid kids never going back to their real parents. But that couldn't be true. Could it?

"No Jeremy, we'll be your foster parents. You'll be a foster son. How does that sound?"

"Okay," my voice said slowly.

"Then when everything works out, you'll go back home," the Children's Aid worker said.

I feel better now. Yes I do. To go home, it's what I want.

Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence come over and give me another big hug. I wipe my eyes with one finger. I'm not really crying. Just cleaning out my eyes.

"Instead of a foster son, can we just be pals?" I ask.

- 30 -

Note: Won 1st. prize in a Foster Parent Federation of Nova Scotia, short story contest. First published in Foster Parent Newsletter.

Published in Truro Daily News newspaper. Truro, Nova Scotia.