She doesn’t get to sleep with us. You ... We both need to do everything in our power to make her one with the two of us. To do that, she needs to be...one with you.”My painting had changed. I was no longer slopping poster paint on paper. There was a canvas board on my easel and I’d been working with acrylics. I was beginning to understand what Ms. Clayborn said about the poster paints being my sketchbook. I was feeling the paint move into the fibers of the canvas as something deeper and truer. My cousins ran around from the back of the house. Once they managed to calm down, the door opened to my aunt and uncle standing there looking confused.“Hey, everyone, this is Ellen, my adopted daughter,” I told them. “We can talk over dinner. Where am I taking you?”The kids all rushed back around the house to put on clothes suitable to go out to eat, versus the play clothes they had on right now. I told Ellen to get her backpack and find Olive’s room to change for dinner too. I grabbed my bag. More

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