In 1982, I entered the foster care system. I was three months old. My parents moved out of our apartment without me. I spent the next 16 years, before my legal emancipation, bouncing from foster home to foster home. From the time I was three years old, I longed for a forever family. For me in my life, a forever family never came, but for some, it does...

The searing heat is awful, and my dry throat longs for water; unfortunately, I left my water bottle in the van. It’s Friday morning; two days before I am to go home. The Texas sun is relentlessly beating down on me. Each step I take makes my glasses slide further down my nose, and my feet ache. Sweat beads start to pool on my skin, causing the dust to stick to me. The piercing honks of the passing cars startle me. I really wish I was anywhere else but here. Yet up ahead, I see my friends turn around and start another lap. If they can keep walking, I can too.

My husband came in from work carrying a laundry basket. The white plastic sides were stretched out of shape and cracked in a few places, but neatly folded inside was a stack of blue jeans Alejandra had sent to me for my grandsons. Tears came to my eyes when I saw those little garments because that basket could have been empty.