Diary Of An Orphan

• Nidhi Dinde, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2022

Greetings readers,
It's officially the day my cousin, Enid got adopted by this affectionate group of humans, who go by the Hallows. My emotions of sorrow can cry a river due to the sadness I feel at this tedious center. I vividly remember the curve on her mouth facing upright, in a gleeful spirit, I think it's called a smile. My parents passed away years ago in a fire, on my 1st birthday. I was a small adolescent, so I lived with my grandma and grandpa, until they passed away 3 years after my parents. I lived secretly in their flat(not my parents house, it got demolished in the fire resulting in their passing) until the management found out and told me to find a new place to call home. Enid, my cousin, begged and cried to take me, but the adoptive parents of Enid said, in these exact words ."We can't afford to pay for this child too, they are very needy." I wanted to shape my dream, not other people controlling it. Plus, growing up, with minimal support, meant that I had to work, no matter the Child labour laws, to fund myself. I worked at a matchstick factory, cleaning the tables for 10 cents each fortnight. I was used to the loneliness and schedule. It was normal for me. I woke up,wiped the floor( I could not afford a bed, only cider bark as a mattress) and ate a few raisins I found on my way to work the previous day. Went to work for 10 hours. Afterwards, I washed my clothes in the river of murky water . I hated the everlasting stench of my clothes,even if it got washed in water. I was lucky if I found a bar of soap in someone's bin, but that was rare. One small swish a day really helped. But, when it ran out, I got back to the normal smell of smoke and sweat.

Foster Child protection services really changed my life, in a good and bad way. The donations generous humans give to us orphans. Such as weird plastic colorful items and decent normal necessities a young human needs. My grandparents' flat was bigger, with a large room, a small bucket in the corner for my lavatory, a small portion of bark as a bed and a piece of metal to hang my rags on. But, it was better than this.

I have a decent bed here. Decent food, decent caregivers. I avoid sleeping on the bed, putting my clothes for a wash or even eating food. It feels abnormal. It was all just new to me. Now, I know what you readers may be thinking. "I feel bad!" "We should fund her." No. I don't need it. I used to, Now I don't. Women like me don't need someone to care for us 24 hours a day, and 7 days a week. We are capable. We have got our back.
Signed, Esmay Diamond.