The first few weeks into my stay with Aunt Constance were rough ones,for both of us. Because she had never been lucky enough to have children of her own to raise,she was at a loss to help me overcome the way that I was feeling. Even though her hands were somewhat tied,due to that condition,I was very grateful that she had been kind enough to open up her home to me,so I would have someone who shared my family tree looking after me,and not some complete stranger.

Even though this situation was as much of a learning experience for her as it was for me,there were many nights when I tested the limits of her patience. One such instance showed itself on the first full day that I was under Aunt Constance's roof. Due to the fact that I was still in denial about how my life had been shattered like a mirror if someone dropped it,I was so upset by the time dinner rolled around that Aunt Constance had no choice but to order me to go to my room,with dinner to follow once it was ready. As usual,I did what I was told. When I got to the room which I had been given the right to call mine,I had pretty much calmed down,until I happened to catch sight of the two pictures sitting near my bedside. One of those two was one of my parents and me,the other was a more recent addition,one which had been slow in arriving,due to how far it had to travel to reach me. The other one was of me,my brother and our sister.