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Chapter 8- First Day Jitters

Almost.

Growing up with so many people in the house actually sounded like a headache. But either way hearing about Bridget's life caused her to think of her own.

Thinking of them was actually what kept her sane. Both her adoptive family and her biological family. Though thinking of the former made her miss them all the more. Her dad with his wide shoulders, shiny bald head, and booming laugh. And how they would sit down every Sunday to watch football. A sport India wasn't particularly fond of but enjoyed watching with him. If only to see him have a fit when someone dropped the ball or "kicked the ball like a sissy."

Her mom. With her long brown hair that fell just below her shoulders, her kind brown eyes, chocolate brown skin, and the way she could make you feel with one of her warm hugs. She could talk to her about any and everything and not worry about her looking at you like you were weird or crazy. And of course she missed her cooking. Man she made a mean Sweet Potato Pie.

And last but not least her adorable little sister. Although now she probably wasn't as "little." But that's the only way India could remember her. When she last saw her she was seven and short enough for India to rest her arm on her head. She had big forest green eyes, creme colored skin, freckles, and long brown hair. And she wasn't even mixed. She was fully black. She was so sweet and full of life and she could always make you laugh. She had this innocence about her that she envied. She only saw the good in everything and refused to see the bad. Because she was also extremely stubborn. But she knew it was there. She never judged and she found good in the worst of places, situations, and people. And boy did she miss her.

And naturally, when she thought about the family she did know, she thought about the one she didn't. Where were they? Were they still alive? Were they looking for her? Did they already know where she is? Had they already replaced her? If she found them, would they want her back?

When she was in the Institution, she'd sometimes sit up late at night, staring at the ceiling above her bed, or early in the morning while the orderlies where making their rounds to wake everyone, she'd think about what they were like. How they looked. What they wore. How they acted. What jobs they had.

She imagined her mom as a short plump woman with short curly hair, kind brown eyes, and chocolate brown skin. She wore thick rimmed glasses and always had a huge smile on her face. Her outfit would usually consist of long skirts and sweaters, no matter the weather. She was always cold anyway. She was a house wife. Or more a community wife. She was full of energy and volunteered to do whatever needed to be done. She was really in loved in the community. Which was a small one. They lived in a small quiet town.

Her dad was a chubby man himself. He had no hair and dark brown skin, dark almost black eyes, and always sported a thick freshly cut beard. He mainly wore plaid shirts and jeans. He didn't smile much but when he did, he barred big white teeth and you couldn't help but smile right along with him. And like all dad's, he had a booming laugh and loved sports. He had this air about him that made it so when he walked into a room he seemed as if he owned the place. She always imagined him owning his own business. Like sales. Or he was a mechanic.

But those where just theories. There was no telling what they were really like. And she had tried to find them before. When she was thirteen and had become really curious, she went to the adoption agency she had been adopted from and asked for information about them. They said they couldn't give it to her because she was too young and even if she wasn't, they had asked to not have any of that information disclosed. Especially to her.

That should have discouraged her. The fact that they didn't want her to find them. And they probably didn't want to find her. But she didn't jump to conclusions. And she didn't lose hope. She still hoped they were looking. There was a part in the very back of her brain that knew they weren't, but she could dream. And she did every night. She dreamed that they were sitting around a long dining table somewhere in the country, eating a large dinner laughing and talking about any and everything. Old memories, the days events, and plans for the weekend. Like she used to do with her adoptive family.