That's All He Wanted
When I was a case manager for a foster care company, I received a file on a boy for possible foster care placement. I read through his information, surprised that he could even be capable of all the menacing things listed in there. At just 12 years old, Jackie had taken hard core drugs, huffed gasoline fumes straight from a gas tank, stolen, and physically assaulted his peers. All 4’9” of him. They brought him in to meet me. He was no bigger than a minute. He stood in front of me. Shy. Stoic. I immediately wanted to hug that little thing up. But he wouldn’t have allowed it. He was hardened, damaged, and constantly proving it. If you had no back history on him, you would think he was just like any other little boy. Dirty shoes, freckles, and blue eyes that just sparkled through his long eyelashes. But they were sad eyes. They had seen too much in 12 short years. I placed him with foster parents who lived out a holler in Eastern Kentucky. They were a firm, fair, and loving couple who nev...