She was older than the others. Ten years old. Quiet. Alert. Hands folded neatly in her lap.
I walked over and crouched beside her. "Hey, sweetheart. Don't you want to pick something?"
She glanced at the other kids and said, "I'm older. I'd rather the little ones get them. They need them more. There's already so little here."
That was it.
Six weeks later, she came to us as a foster-to-adopt placement.
I looked at Ben. He looked back at me. Neither of us said a word, but I knew.
Her name was Lily.
Six weeks later, she came to us as a foster-to-adopt placement.
I loved her fast. Faster than I expected. Maybe because she was so careful with everything. She folded her clothes into neat little stacks. She thanked me for every meal. She hesitated before taking seconds.
