How Adoption Entered My Heart

I remember it was a sunny summer day. I was around 7 or 8 years old and I was bouncing around inside my parent's car waiting for my mom to come out of 7-11. Now this was in the 80's so seatbelts and supervision were merely a strongly encouraged option. The windows were down and a warm breeze was dancing across my face. I was happy and carefree. My blissful moment was interrupted when I heard a child's scream.

I looked out the back window of the car and saw a small toddler on the sidewalk across the street. They were sobbing with their hands over their face. A large adult stood over them screaming hate and profanities. It felt like I was watching the situation in slow motion, the spit spewing from the adult's rage and the child frozen in fear. It seemed to go on forever. Then in a quick moment, the adult abruptly grabbed the child and forced them into a nearby apartment. The door slammed shut as one last sob faded.   

What the heck did I just witness? Every ounce of energy I had went from calm and dissipated to focused and furious. The feeling was strong and overwhelming, all I wanted to do was run over to the apartment with my little legs, sneak in, and rescue that poor baby. My child brain was working out the details when my mom opened the car door and jumped in. Do I tell her what just happened? 

I didn't tell my mom. I didn't tell anyone and I don't exactly know why. Maybe no one would believe me, maybe I really didn't see what I saw, or maybe a part of me was scared. No matter the reason I made a promise to myself that day, "when I grow up, I am going to adopt a child who is sad and hurting. I am going to protect them and give them all the love and hugs in the world". 

     That was the day adoption entered my heart.