Something in me has made me a loner for as far back as I can remember. Being put into an orphanage at age five, my little sister was three... it should have been a blessing to me. Instead of taking advantage of it I rebelled. I made a couple of friends but still kept at a distance. I brooded and a rage was constantly inside me. Our mother lied to us and kept up the lie all the rest of her life. She called it a girl's boarding school. Above the entrance door in bold letters it read, St. Joseph's Orphan Girls Home.

It was, on the outside a wonderful place for children. We had all the amenities a child could ask for. It had a swimming pool, a tennis court, multiple swings and a baseball diamond. We also had a caring, loving Priest. As far as I know he never molested anyone. He truly cared. It was also the place I began having claustrophobia. It was a huge cluster of buildings including a chapel. We had dormitories. Two levels in all of mixed ages. One level for younger girls. One level for older girls. The teenagers had their own wing as did the nuns. At least one hundred and I'm sure more girls in each dorm.

We went to school there also. It was the place I should have learned my fundamentals in English. Should have, is the operative word here. We could go home for a visit when permitted, if we had parents and learned our Catechism. I became a whiz in Catechism, but never learned my basics. When we were kicked out, it was partly due to my rebellious nature. It was,�  I believe partly because our mother wouldn't let us be baptized or adopted. Not knowing those basics was a real handicap in public school when I attended in eighth grade, with boys for the first time. I became a class clown for defensive reasons. I faked my way to my sophomore year in high school, when I got married.

It was there in the orphanage I fell in Love with Jesus. He was all I had. I guess I finally gave up on Jesus when my begging didn't get me out of there. I'm sure that is when I began making my own poor decisions. Eventually, I turned from God, feeling like I didn't deserve Him. I realized many decades later. He never gave up on this stubborn Irish lass. I now know He loves me.

Back then, when I was ten, there was no escape. I stood at the third-floor window of my dorm, looking out at the lights of the city, wondering what was out there. I wish now, I had never found out.


Background
A weekend visit from the orphanage.
Mama, "What are all those boxes?"
Simple question from a six-year-old
"Mama, can I see those boxes?"
"Sure, honey they're just shoes"

Mama, " How did you get so many shoes?"
"I work in a shoe store with lady's shoes"
Mama " can I see your pretty shoes?"
"Sure, honey they're just shoes"

"Mama, can we stay with you, please?"
"I don't have money to feed you honey,
It costs a lot of money for two little girls"
"Mama, mama, PLEASEEEEEEEE?"

"Mama, mama, can I count"
"Help me count, mama, please"
Green, and black and purple too
Heels so high, boxes stacked

"Mama, there are thirty-seven pair"

"One for each outfit I wear,
They let me put them in lay-a way"
"Mama, a question please"

"Do we eat lot's more than these?"

Continued-