Why did I choose to be homeless in downtown Chicago, over the foster home I had been living at in Wisconsin? I was 13-years old and this thought returned to me every time my stomach ached for food. I don’t think I thought this adventure out too well! What could I have possibly been thinking? Where was I going to find some food and where was I going to sleep? The night before had been spent sleeping in a chair, at the greyhound bus station. This place was huge and easy to get lost in. The announcements of what bus’s were coming and going made the sleep difficult. The chair even had a TV mounted to it! I thought that was cool. I had no quarters to plug into it, what little money I had was taken from me in the restroom.
I had to get something to eat! I was now at some kind of train station and plenty of food was around. I had never seen anything like it before in my life. Hundreds of people all walking quickly, in different directions at once. Little food and newspaper stands were set up all over the place. How I ended up here, I was a little unsure of as well. The only thing I knew about Chicago was that a museum our 6-grade class had visited on a field trip was here. When I ventured out of the bus station, I repeatedly asked strangers how to get to it. The museum had a coalmine in it and I thought that would be a good place to sleep at night. I could just hide in it. Everyone told me the best way to get to this place was by taking some kind of train or subway to it. The walk from the bus station did not take long at all. When I arrived at the steps, which went under buildings that seemed to touch the sky, I was nervous. Would the train be free to ride? I noticed people were walking through gates that had a bar swinging in and out from it. I could easily go under or over it. What was more noticeable was the wonderful smell of food though!
My plan would be to run up to one of these booths and just grab the first item my hands could find. I picked a booth that had decorated candy boxes displayed. Sounded like a good meal to me! When the smells became over powering my feet hit the ground running. I snatched the first box I could and quickly ran into the crowd. All I heard was some voice yelling at me to stop, which was soon faded in with the million other sounds my ears were hearing. There was no way I was going to return the box of candy. The red bow on the box told me it was special. When I opened it, my eyes told me it was as well. I stuffed a bunch into my mouth and felt the sweet taste of chocolate. Maybe it was a good idea that I had ran away from the foster home. Did they even know I was gone? Did they even care?
The foster home I was taken to, when the social worker Dale picked me up from St. Amelians, really was a strange experience. The family was nice but I felt so out of place. Sleeping in my own bed, in a regular room, was hard to get use to at first. I had spent a few years of having to sleep in a room that had many beds lined up in a roll. I even had a dresser here in this new home. At St. Ameilians kids had to use a closet with shelves on it for their belongings. I remember how strange it was getting use to having everything I owned on three shelves, built into a wall. Now it was strange getting use to a regular dresser again. It was not that I did not like this new home, I just felt like I was expected to suddenly have this family replace my real one.
Maybe families were like the closets and dressers? I knew this was not right though. My real family would soon find out where I was and I would be able to come home. Dale even mentioned that a visit was planned to go visit my old home too. Why did kids have to “visit” their own homes? This entire experience was baffling. I really wish my life had a nice and real home to go to. The families on TV seemed like really nice ones. Maybe one of these trains could take me to one………

Excerpts from chapter 4 of “In the Shadows of Forgiveness”. Visit [link] for more!

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