The Courage of Children: Boston and Beyond XXXI

Kaylin LaLond
Lindsay Worstell, Teacher
Normandin Middle School, New Bedford, MA
To have courage is not to be big, brave and strong. To me, courage is to have
the nerve to understand what is right and wrong, and understand when you
have to do something about a situation.
I had a failed adoption. The date was October 24, 2021. That day started like
any normal day, brushing teeth, getting dressed, the basic stuff. It was around
12:30 PM when I noticed that something was wrong. I was eating lunch in the
auditorium, when I saw the girl who was supposed to be my sister get up with a
teacher to be dismissed. I thought, “That’s weird. I wonder if she’s okay.”
I went to all of my classes for the day, and I was in my last class of the day when
my supposed to still be teacher, Mrs. McLaude, came up to me and said that
I was not taking the bus that day, that I was going to be picked up instead, by
the woman who was supposed to be my mom. I thought, that’s strange, I only
get picked up if something is wrong. Just then the bell rang, and so I packed
up my things and headed for one of the school’s many exits. I got outside and
waited to be picked up, and when she arrived, I noticed that no one else was
in the car, which was unusual because she and her husband, the man who was
supposed to be my father, had three other kids. So I got in the car and said
hello, asked her how her day went, and she said not so good. I asked her why,
and she said she’d rather not tell me. Little did I know I was about to find out
in a little less than five minutes.
As the minutes passed, we sat in silence. We started driving down our road,
and as we got closer to the house, I looked out of the car window, and I saw my
adoption worker, Rob.
And so I said, “I’m leaving, aren’t I?” and she looked back at me, and she said,
“Yes,” as she was holding back her tears. We pulled into the driveway, and she
looked back at me again, this time crying, and she handed me a picture of me
and the entire family. I turned the picture over, and it had a note written on
the back, saying things like “We love you” and, “We wish all the best for you,”
but the one that stuck the most of all was the last line that said, “We will see
you again one day.”
“...God would never
give me anything
I cannot handle...
Everyone goes
through terrible
moments in their
life, and I’m just
going through
them a bit early.”
You remember that, okay? And when you have thoughts otherwise, you take
the stuffed animals we gave you, and you say to them that you’re wrong; that
it’s not your fault, and that we didn’t do this because we don’t love you, but
because we love you so much that we are letting you go, because we only want
what’s best for you. It wouldn’t be fair to keep you here. We love you, and we
hope you know that.”
We hugged, and then I got into my adoption worker’s car, crying hysterically. I
waved goodbye to them through my window, and then we drove off. That was
the last I saw of them.
I know that one special day in the future, I will get to see them again. I have
been through a lot of things in life that have been really, really, terrible. But
without all that terrible stuff, I would not be who I am today. I would not be
that strong, resilient, persistent girl that they wanted to give a second chance
at life. I wouldn’t have ever been able to feel loved, safe, and most importantly,
feel what an actual family felt like, instead of all of that abuse, fear, and
neglect. It was the best year of my life, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Two things I like to remember when it seems like life is too much to handle
are that one, God would never give me anything I could not handle, and
two, that everyone goes through terrible moments in life, and I’m just going
through them a bit early.
I got out of the car, and I said, “So today’s the day, huh?” and they all just
nodded at me. We all exchanged hugs, crying, and never wanting to let
go, until the kids were told to go inside. Once all the kids went inside, my
would-have-been-parents looked at me and said, “We will always love you.
The Courage of Children: Boston and Beyond
Volume XXXI
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