The Life of Meadow Turner

Another Home

The cold wind blew with a fury that morning.  Social Worker got out of her car and went to the open the passenger door.  Just before she touched the handle she looked in at the nearly grown girl inside and smiled.  Meadow Turner’s brown hair and eyes were reminiscent of her own at that age while her pale skin and dark attitude were quite the opposite of her own.  She sighed and opened the car door.

“I am very sorry that we couldn’t place you in a home, dear.  It always breaks my heart when you grow from a baby to a teen without finding a suitable home…”  Social told her.  “I am especially sorry about how your birthday went at the last home.”  Meadow shuddered; she didn’t want to remember the sprinkler incident.  She would never look at grilled cheese the same way again.

“Don’t sweat it,” Meadow glumly said as she got out of the car.  Social’s frown only grew as Meadow stumbled back a bit as another gust of wind hit them both.  Meadow wondered why the weather was drastically different from the hot, sticky climate she had left hours before.  She quickly put on her coat and ear-muffs and glared at Social Worker.  Somehow, Meadow reasoned, the weather change had to be the woman’s fault.  Everything was her fault.

Social Worker sighed yet again. “I am very sorry to say that the adoption service does not place teens with families, so you will be living at this group home with other teens until you become an adult.  I wish the system were different, but there really is nothing I can do.”

“It’s better this way,” Meadow bluntly stated.  She was tired of being shuffled from one home to another.  She was tired of having a family thinks he wasn’t a good enough child to keep or for somebody to treat her badly enough to be taken away yet again.  Meadow wanted something she had never known; she wanted a home.

Social showed Meadow to the door and gave her one look over before returning to her car.  She hated leaving but knew that she had to go to other homes and help other children.  Just before she opened her car door, Social looked back to see Meadow standing in front of the run-down building.  Meadow’s hair blew wildly with the cold, harsh wind while her body stayed motionless against its forces.  Social wondered if there was any hope for Meadow and all the other children taken from their homes.  With a melancholy feeling, Social Worker entered her car and drove to her next appointment; the image of Meadow that day was forever burned into her mind.


~~ LCS