Page 34 - 2016 April Voices

Tell Me A Story

The Brick

by Curtis Low,

A very good friend of mine once told me, coming back. You get to stay with us for a while.”
“You never step in the same stream twice”. I was crushed. Waves of; fear, anger, guilt and
Not long ago I experienced this for myself shame washed over me. I decided at that point,
walking in SE Portland. The neighborhood I if I was going to do this thing called life, I was
was in became increasingly familiar. I pulled going.to.do.it.on.my.OWN! I would never trust
out my trusty phone and checked Google anyone ever again.
Maps. As I surveyed the screen I realized I
was 2 blocks from Waverly Children’s Home. I began to build my wall.
That infamous red brick building from my Back in SE Portland, I continued to walk.
past which prompted the question, “When Looking around the neighborhood there was an
are they coming back?” internal battle raging inside of me that I could
not ignore. On one hand, I ranted at myself “I’m
Do you remember Pink Floyd’s song, “The no longer a child! Besides, it’s just a building!”
Wall”? For years I built and maintained a wall
behind which I felt safe moving through On the other hand, I tell myself reasonably, “It
life on my own. I related to the lyrics of the was a very pivotal point in my life, I wonder
song, though I never really understood my if it’s still there. And what if any feelings are
affinity for it until I was about 21 and had attached to the building itself.”
really started to learn about myself, who I
was and where I came from. I made up my mind. I had finally had it. I
decided I needed to take action. I control my
When I was 10 mos. old, a mere baby. My life now, NOT my past.
biological mother brought me to Waverly
Children’s Home and dropped me off. She I began walking through a neighborhood
didn’t want me. At age 2 I was adopted from which was hauntingly familiar, and yet, so
Waverly by the Lows, whose name I still have. different from how I had remembered it. As
My dad was an angry brooding alcoholic, I walked, I searched the web for “Waverly
my brother, 8 years older than I, was almost Children’s Home.” I found a blog that stated the
never around. My mother. . .my mother was building was slated for demolition. The date on
the glue that held us all together. the blog was August 2011.

When I was 10 years old, my adopted Feeling a surge of panic, I opened Google
parents brought me back to Waverly for what
I thought was a “visit”. I spent the whole day
playing with all of the kids there. I had a great
time. We played tag, a couple of board games,
and shot some pool. Around 5:30 it started to
get dark and they began setting the table for
dinner. More than a little worried, I looked for
an adult. I recognized a lady who had been
particularly nice to me all day. Sorrowfully
I asked, “When are they coming back?”

She got down on her knees before me,
and placed her hands on my tiny shoulders.
Looking into my confused eyes she told me,
“I’m so sorry Curtis, your parents are not

34 Volume 2 Issue 10 - APRIL 2016