The Plan...

I was almost 5 when I arrived in Canada. By the time I was 7 I had already planned my escape. I had decided that I didn't really feel welcome at this place I was supposed to call home. I mean what was with all those awful looks I would get from this person that apparently I was supposed to call Mom? Who was this lady anyway? Why did I always get these vibes of anger from her? Why was she using such a mean tone with me? Had I done something wrong? All these questions would come up in my mind everyday.

I remember becoming quiet anytime she would enter the same room. Even if I was in mid-sentence. Especially if I was talking to the man I was supposed to consider my dad. I remember feeling scared that I would upset her. I remember feeling bad if she saw that I was laughing and playing and having a good time with her two kids I was supposed to think of as brothers. Why was I feeling this way? I felt she hated me and I didn't even know why. I didn't even really understand who she was. What was I doing here?

I was tired of feeling confused, sad and lonely. The only place I really loved was school. I was in love with my teacher, Mrs. Vasilla. I am unsure of how you spell that, but she was always so loving and had this amazing smile on her face. She really cared about everyone in that class and we learned so much from her. I had great friends that I could play with and these awesome cubbies that we could all fit in and sit comfortably. Our very own private niches. I remember one recess having this talk with another little girl about how we hated being at home and that we should run away. We talked about it, and little did she know I had already been thinking about this for days. I decided I would include her in my plan.

So the next morning I woke up super early and tiptoed down the stairs making sure not to hit any creaks and cracks that would give me away. I carefully opened up a kitchen drawer and took out small ziplock bags. I filled them with food: marshmellows, lucky charms, chocolate chip cookies, trail mix and apples. I then snuck back upstairs and stuffed some clothes and underwear into my knapsack covering my food and then piled my school things on top. It was working out perfectly. I didn't say so much as a word as I simply followed orders from this supposed mom when she awoke, and then I went off to school.

I went the whole day in school quiet, yet excited about my escape. At recess I explained to the other little girl what I had planned. I had everything prepared for us to run away. We would go after school and set up our new home in the little house attached to the play structure. It was perfect shelter and I even had food, clothes and blankets. We would meet at this spot at the end of the day. My friend nodded in agreement. I was excited I wouldn't be alone and we proceeded to play.

I thought my plan was going off without a hitch until the final bell rang signaling the end of the day. I went to get my bag and was about to find my friend when my teacher approached me. She kneeled down in front of me and said, "Is there anything you want to talk to me about?" I shook my head. "No? There is nothing going on at home that you want to tell me about?" I shook my head. I could feel my eyes welling up. "Ok, sweetheart, your friend tells me you're planning on running away from home. She told her mother and her mother told me. I think we should call your mother." I burst out into tears. Why? How could this be happening? I don't want her to know! That girl was supposed to keep her mouth shut and she said she would come with me! I don't want to go back home! These thoughts whirled around in my head as I cried and cried and cried. My teacher just held me.

I never said much. I couldn't even find the words to explain to anyone what had happened, or why I would want to run away. What was the point? That evening after my supposed mom had picked me up and taken me back to that wretched house, she sat me down on the couch. I was stiff next to her waiting for some sort of punishment. Something cruel. But she surprised me. In the whole time I have known her she had never given any form of affection to me. But this one time, and it was the first and the only time in what would be a long, long time after that, she looked at me with tears in her eyes, a pained face and gave me a big hug. I could feel all of her sadness, and we both sat there for a long time and cried together.