Legal Quandary

Anniversary

Warning - this post is neither funny (although my 4 loyal readers should be used to that), or sarcastic. If that's what you're looking for, you should probably just skip this one.

Although I failed to note Pearl Harbor Day yesterday, I didn't actually forget about it. I meant to put up a post all day, and somehow still managed to blow it off. Apparently though, they talked about it at the Elder Child's school yesterday. One of her teachers even had them write cards to current soldiers, thanking them for their service. I'm am astounded by the level of understanding the Elder Child has of what happened and what the consequences were. I'm fairly certain I knew nothing about Pearl Harbor at her age. What can I say - she's much smarter than I am, which is why she'll be going to medical school someday.

However, Pearl Harbor Day was not the anniversary I was thinking of when I wrote the title to the post. I realized this morning that today is the 20th anniversary of my running away from home. I don't mean the kind where you get in a fight with your parents about the state of cleanliness in your room and leave for a few hours. I mean the kind where you leave, turn yourself into the Police, stay in a foster home for 3 years, and only see your parents during court approved visits.

Now that I'm a parent, I can't even imagine what kind of hell that must have been for my parents. While things in my house were definitely not "normal," part of me wonders if I wasn't being just the tiniest bit of a spoiled brat. I'm confident that at the time I was sure I was saving my sanity and maybe my life. I seem to also have been able to convince at least a few adults, a couple of psychologists, and a judge of this as well, so who knows.

Either way, I just want to say thanks to the people who did help me when I needed it. The teacher who let me stay at her house. The social worker who handled my case - even though you irritated me to no end sometimes. My foster family - all except the guy who tried to get me and every other female who came through the house to sleep with him.

To my mom. You know this was never about you. I'm sorry, but when you wouldn't leave, I had to. I know you understand.

And to my dad. I'm sorry I put you through that - it must have been really hard. On the other hand - kicking is not an appropriate disciplinary measure for a child. Ever.

Ok....back to our regularly scheduled cynical programming. Although I'm sure this does a lot to explain why I'm so screwed up.

posted by Legal Quandary at 13:28