Everyone has a morning ritual. Whether it was the norms like waking up and showering or a rare one like writing down dreams on a book while waiting for the day to start.
Every morning before the sun comes up, I would push a chair next to the window and with great effort, I would climb up. I would open the window with my small hands, lean on the window ledge and stare outside while waiting for yet another bright new day.
I never understood why I did that, but that never stopped me. Maybe it’s because the sun never failed to show, because the sun is dependable while the world wasn’t. Or maybe.. I just wanted to be just as bright as the sun.
But before anyone could wake up, I would close the window, move the chair back to it’s original place and sleep again; or at least pretend to.
There were a few kids in the room but none of them could be trusted. Some of them bullied me when I was just 3 years old while the others just watched.
That’s why I never really became close with them. They would rat me out if they knew that I opened the window that the Ms Smith strictly forbid us.
That was, until a girl named Lauren came.
I was sitting on the worn couch in the living room, listening to my foster brothers and sisters bicker over small things whilst reading a capturing book that I found outside, laying on the grass idly.
It wasn’t the type of book any normal 5 year old would read, it was old, wordy, and simply deteriorated. I think that’s the reason why I loved it; it had a story.
Who read it? Why were there so many stains on most of the pages? Why is it so worn? How many times did the previous owner read it?
So many questions that I wanted ask. But I can’t, because the answers aren’t there.
According to Ms Smith, my caregiver, she found me in the middle of the night at the doorstep of the house. There wasn’t anything attached to me except for my name, Karla Camila, and my Date Of Birth.
But even as I was intrigued by the novel, I couldn’t read. I went to preschool that time - thanks to the courtesy of the donators who provided money enough for us to buy books - but the teacher was so tedious when it came to teaching us.
So instead of waiting, I asked Ms Smith to teach me.
You see, this house had two caregiver, Ms Smith and her sister who was also technically Ms Smith, but she preferred if we call her by her first name, Madison.
Ms Smith was one of the most patient woman I have ever met. I didn’t really know much adults that time but I wasn’t that stupid to not know that. Her sister, however, was the complete opposite. She was rude and despised each one us kids in the house saying that we were and I quote , ‘A waste of time and energy.’ I don’t even understand how she was granted to actually take care us.
One time, I even heard her say, “You know Stacy? You should just stop wasting your life on these kids. If their own parents didn’t want them, what makes you think that the others would?”
I couldn’t blame her. We were the outcast, treated like rubbish because we weren’t what our parents needed.
But Ms Smith was fuming when she heard it. She shouted at her sister, yelling that we deserve a chance and that the reason why we were thrown out wasn’t because of us but because of our said parents. She said the we were worth more than everything in this world because we would be the one bringing change into the world one day.
Ms Smith believed in us, and that’s why I love her. She never treated any on us badly. She never shouted at us like she shouted at her sister that night. Don’t get me wrong, she was capable of being angry at us, but for valid reasons.
So after I begged her to teach me how to read, before 9 pm, Ms Smith would bring me to the dining room while the others were upstairs getting ready for bed and she would teach me ever so slowly and patiently until I understood how an alphabet worked.
Until I eventually knew how to read.
Anyway, I was reading the book on the couch when a knock woke me up from my day dream. One of the foster kids opened the door, revealing a girl with a man dressed in a suit. Ms Smith was in the kitchen when it happened, washing dishes.
The girl was pale, looking lost and vulnerable while she was holding the man’s hand. Her hair was brown and thick, along with her eyebrows. But it wasn’t that that caught my eye, it was her bright eyes.
It looked so bright that I was reminded of the sunrise I saw just hours ago. And just like the sun, it was captivatingly beautiful and addicting. Or maybe I’m just heliophilic.
“Ms Smith, there’s someone here searching for you,” the kid called out, looking at man and the green eyed girl cautiously.
From my vantage point, Ms Smith walked out with a small towel on her hand, pampering her wet hands.
“Oh hello,” she said, her brows raised curiously.
“Hi, I’m working for the US childcare services. And I would like to discuss about some things, do you have time?” He asked, releasing his hold on the little girl.
“Of course, lets go to my office,” she replied, guiding the man to the room she calls her office.
Before the man followed, he kneeled down until he was eye-leveled with the girl and held the her shoulders with his hand. “You stay here for a few minutes alright, go talk to the other kids if you want but don’t go out of this house. I’ll be back,” he said softly, hugging the little girl.
“Alright,” she talked for the first time since she came in. It sounded beautiful. It was soft but it held a lot of power, even if it was just one word. I could imagine if she spoke a sentence, it could capture the whole world.
He stood up with a soft smile and walked towards the room in the corner while the girl stood in the middle of the room alone.
There were a few kids who were watching her, just as enamored and captivated to the beautiful girl as I was. None of us moved except for her. She was looking around, searching for something. That is, until she found me.
Her green eyes locked with my chocolate ones. Without saying a single word, she suddenly walked over to the couch where I was currently sitting on and climbed on it, sitting next to me.
Everyone was confused as I was. Why was she sitting next to the lonely weird girl in the corner of the room when there’s tons of other kids she could go to.
We didn’t speak, but for some reason, I felt safe. Her shoulder touched mine, along with her thigh. That’s how close we were.
I turned my concentration back to the book in my hand and opened to the page where I left off. Page 2.
She peeked over and I feel her blazing eyes burning at the side of my head, causing me to turn to her once again.
She had captured my attention just by a look.
Again, she didn’t talk, she just smiled widely, making her chubby cheeks to rise and her eyes to partly close. Her smile was contagious and I smiled back.
She looked at the book and squinted to look at the words printed on the paper.
“Too Kill A Mockingbird?” she finally asked. I was speechless, how could she know. Has she read it? She looked like my age so how could she read the title so easily?
“Yes,” I said simply, not wanting to sound as surprised as I was inside. Finally, another person who knows how to read aside from me and the adults in the house. I didn’t say anything much, not wanting to sound weird. I wanted her to stay here with me for as long as I could and I didn’t want to scare her.
I never cared about other people’s perception on me, but for some reason, I cared about hers.
Other kids had said that. They said that I’m too weird and that’s why they didn’t want to hang with me.
“I’m Lauren,” she introduced, a smile still plastered on her face. Good, she’s not scared or weirded out yet, I thought. Her name sounded beautiful, just like her face and her voice.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” She questioned, her thigh pressing against mine as she turned towards me.
“I don’t wanna scare you,” I said honestly, causing her to roll her head back and laugh. Even as I was confused as to what triggered her to laugh, it didn’t fail me to have the urge to make her laugh again.
“People call me weird and it scares them to talk to me,” I whispered, feeling somewhat vulnerable as I disclosed the one fear I had as a kid.
“Sometimes, the weird ones are the fun ones. I’m weird too and I’m not ashamed of it,” she said, making me feel better already.
Before I could reply, the door of the office opened, revealing the man who was with Lauren 30 minutes ago.
“So I’ll call you and we’ll discuss it over the phone. I’ll bring the paperwork and everything needed for her to settle in next week,” he said, walking out the door while Ms Smith nodded.
He walked over to us and kneeled just like how he did previously in front of Lauren.
“I see you made a new friend,” he started, looking at me briefly with a soft smile, “how about that Lauren? Would you like to stay here?”
Lauren was now excitedly jumping about on the couch, bouncing it. Since the time she came in, I couldn’t see any childish behavior from her. She always looked in tact and patient, only talking when she felt like it. Until now that is.
And honestly, I don’t know which I like more.
The man laughed at her antics and extended his arms in front of her so she could jump on him while he hug her.
He stood up with her still attached to his body, Lauren’s little arms still wrapped around his neck. He walked over to the front door and bid goodbye to Ms Smith while Lauren moved around as an indication that she wanted to walk.
He untangled her and stood her up on the ground until she was highly capable of doing it herself. She ran back to me and said, “I’ll come back, I promise.”
She hugged me for - few seconds. While I tried to grasp on what was happening, she ran back to the door with the man without looking back.
After about a week later, while I was sitting on the lawn, reading the book at page 5, she came out of the black car parked on the side of the road in a white dress and a pink beanie with the biggest smile I have ever seen.
“Hey Camzi,” She said, running towards me, only to tackle me to the ground with a bear hug.
“Camzi?” I squeaked, finding it hard to speak, feeling her choking my neck.
She pulled away and fixed her dress, “That’s your new name. A special name. Like for me, daddy called me Angel.”
“So is my name Camzi now?” I sat back up and closed the book.
“For me, yes. But only I get to call you that. To others, you’re still Camila.”
“Because it’s a special name, silly,” she laughed, sitting down next to me with her knees up.
“Why do I get a special name? Am I special?” I asked, my hands tangled together on my lap as a nervous tick.
“You’re special to me,” Lauren said, facing me, a smile lingering on her face with confidence.
“Yeah, well.. You’re special to me too so I should have a special name for you too.”
“Okay, what do you wanna call me?” She asked, intrigued at where I was going with this.
“Lauren.. Lau.. Lo..” I contemplated, playing with her name with my tongue. “Lolo?”
“I love that, Camzi and Lolo,” she said and I felt proud. I never had the ability to change a person’s name and the triumph I feeling was beyond anything I had ever felt. The way she smiled at the names made me feel special.
“Lauren, let’s go in first,” the man that came with her last week spoke, carrying two suitcases and a small backpack.
Lauren stood up, ran to him and took the backpack from him. Strapping the bag on her shoulder as she walked towards the house.
As she walked on the pavement, she turned back to me. “Camzi, are you coming?” She called out while I followed her gaze. Under the bright sun, she looked like a literal angel. Her hair was long, cascading down her shoulders and back.
I stood up, tucked the book on my arm and ran next to her.
“Lolo, wake up,” I whispered, shaking her body frantically as she stirred awake.
“Yeah?” She croaked out, her voice raspy from the sleep.
“Time for what?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes in midst of stretching her body.
Instead of answering, I eagerly pulled her hand, making her stand up.
I dragged her to the window where there were already 2 chairs I placed next to each other before I woke her up.
“Come on,” I said, climbing up the chair and waited for her to follow suit. She seemed to get the idea and climbed the other chair.
Just in time, the sun started to rise slowly while we leaned on the ledge, shoulder to shoulder.
I don’t know how long we stayed that way, but eventually she said, “I love the sun.”
“Me too,” I answered, still looking in front as it unfolded.
“Maybe you’ll be the sun one day,” a soft smile lingered on her lips. If only she knew how much those words meant to me.
While she was looking at the sun, my eyes lingered on her. The sun shone brightly in front of us and her orbs turned bigger.
I didn’t know anything about brunette and yet, I had never felt more secured that I have ever been.
And since that day, we would always wake up at that same time and watch as the sun unfolds in front of us together.
I didn’t feel as lonely anymore.
