After some deliberation, someone suggested it would be best for my future if I left the little village. It would give me the best shot later on to make something of myself. The couple that took me in was starting to get attached; they needed to be sure I was going to be safe. They brought me to the city and stayed with me in the home where I was going to for a while. We went to the embassy with my documents and both of my parents’ death certificates. They made an appointment to go back to finalize a few things, and for the time being, the couple made some arrangements to stay with me. A week later, the embassy called. When everything was squared away and it was time to say our goodbyes, the woman cried… I think I cried too. I found a picture of them in my files.

By the time I arrived in Canada, I was just four years old. I didn’t understand English or French since I had only heard Spanish up until that point. 

I was put into the orphanage system and I became one more orphan in the world.

I remember getting to this school, it was big and cold. The teachers and the students slept there, and we were forbidden to go out. Although I didn’t know what they were saying, it was clear to me that one of the girls were teasing me. Maybe because I didn’t understand what they were saying. For some reason, it didn’t bother me. I remember adults being more strict with me because my mannerisms were different than theirs.

Every once in awhile, there was a lady in a suit who used to come in and take one of us. She used to find families for us. We never knew who was next, so it was always a surprise. When it happened, each one would always be full of relief and enthusiasm when their names were called. As the years passed, the girls who had become my friends were going one by one… It was hard to make friends when we all knew that at some point, we could be next. 

I was seven years old when it was finally my turn. The lady in the suit took me to this new family and I was so happy!

When I arrived at the house, I noticed that they were happy to see me too. They had two boys that were around my age… that caused some issues between us. It turned out, they didn’t like me at all. They used to fight with me and abuse me. This one time, I had to defend myself, so I took a knife and cut one of the boy’s faces… After that incident, they sent me back. I was nine years old at that time, and I never saw them again. 

To be continued…

Published by lidiaaviles Copyright © 1987-2087 Lidia Aviles. All rights reserved.

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