For Whom Does the Bell Toll?

Sunday night I had a rather strange dream about Justice. Lil and I, along with a few other foster parents, were taken to a kind of children's resort for foster kids. As we were walking in, we observed a young girl on horse back navigating her way up a steep incline. My thought was, "Wow, she's an excellent equestrian. They must have a great program here."

Apparently, even in my dreams, I try to impress myself with use of obscure and overly big words.

The house itself was more like a modern ski lodge. It was set on the side of the mountain and had a commanding view of the valley below it. Partially, it was set on stilts so that every level had windows that opened outward. The yard was immaculate and impressive, but the inside was somewhat cluttered. It appeared to be like a home where the daytime child-care parent (mother or father, how's that for PC from the 90s?) was just too tired to pick up after the rampage of toddlers and pre-kindergarten children.

That's not to say that the place wasn't clean, just untidy as any house can get with the addition of a child of any age.

The matron of the house, which is the only word I can think of that describes her, was an older lady with a pressence of authority and capability. She clearly knew what she was about and how to go about it. After a quick tour, which showed cubicles for all of the children where they could keep toys and whatnot, she said, "Alright, you just leave Justice here. She'll be well taken care of."

Initially, I was a little taken aback.

But then a calm came over me, and I knew that everything would be alright. I have no idea if the looming of the 16th is impacting me or not. I might just be preparing myself mentally to let go of Justice. I know that Lil is going through a tough time as well. We're balanced between making a life with this child, and getting ready to cut ourselves out of her day-to-day life.

The disonnance is palpable.