When I was 14, I had to take care of my 6-year-old brother because we were on our own. He meant the world to me, so I did everything I could for him. But then the system separated us and placed us in different foster homes.
The day they took him, I promised him, “This won’t last forever.”
By the time I was 16, I was working three jobs and going to night school. I managed to rent a small apartment — it was a big step toward getting my brother back.
Life was really hard, but I kept going because I believed it would all be worth it once we were together again.
Then Mrs. Rachel said, “You know what? Fix up the extra room upstairs. Same rent. Just don’t burn my house down.”
My face lit up. “Are you serious?” I asked. She smiled and nodded.
I got to work fixing the room right away. I painted the walls blue—Samuel’s favorite color.
A few days later, Frances came by and said kinship care might be the best choice. The next day, I stood in court and spoke from the heart.
“I know I’m young,” I told the judge, “but I’ve always taken care of Samuel. I can give him a safe and loving home.”
Samuel’s foster parents were also there, and they agreed he should live with me.
The judge took a moment before giving her decision. Then she said the words I’d been hoping for:
Then she said the words I’d been hoping for:
“The best place for Samuel is with his brother.”
Samuel jumped up from the back row and ran straight to me.
We celebrated that night with pizza. It was the day everything finally came together.