lil Misa

She's not sure what to think. She's been left multiple times before this time. By left, I mean, abandoned. Misa, is her given name, but she doesn't know it. She responds to "mi amor." 

You see, Misa came from  a place where no one knew her name, literarily, no one, not even herself. The caretakers did simply that: took care of her basic needs: food, clothing, and shelter. No one cared enough to learn her name, and understandably so. 

Doña Ada was doing her job of taking care of 51 different kids 

and how was she supposed to know each one personally? The kids come and go. Kids 

come to her from unhealthy homes and are soon placed in a more nurturing situation 

-- at least that is the hope of the program. 

Misa is one of those kids in transition from the run down orphanage into a foster home setting -

into a place that offers hope and promise of stability. A place where kids can grow up with 

the example of a home built on the promise of a couple committed to marriage. 

She has doubts. Will she be left this time? Will someone attempt to care for her and then 

just up and leave? For whatever reason, she has had 4 different caretakers in her mere 2.5 years 

of life and has no knowledge or memory of "mommy and daddy." 

Misa is up in the middle of the dark night, every single night. She tip toes across the clean tile floor 

to the seemingly telling wooden door. Who is behind that door? "Are they still here? Are they 

committed to caring for me?" could possibly be some of the thoughts running through this 2.5 

year old's undeveloped mind. How does she possibly have the worry of this as such a young age? 

Shouldn't kids of less than 5 years be concerned with discovering life, not worried about with 

whom they will continue the next day? Not for Misa. 

The door knob, cold and gold - catching a gleam of the moonlight shining through the narrow window. 

The small hand grasps a hold of this golden cold knob, twist and turn. CREEEEEEK, the door 

meets ajar, and with a quick peek, Misa notices two bodies buried beneath the covers.  One body 

rolls over, catches her eyes with a promising glimpse. Misa quietly brings the door back 

to the position of which it was found. She meanders back across the home, into her cozy bed. 

One more night of assurance: they are still here. 

Mr. and Mrs. Greene will be there in the morning and have been in that bed each night that lil

Misa ventures to the cold golden knob for a quick check on what she will soon recognize as her

permanent care givers.