Tasha's+Story

__The Box__ Feb.28, 2011.

I’m Amy Nichols. I am 14 years old, five foot four, with muddy brown eyes and dark brown hair. I have no siblings. I live with my mother.My father passed away when I was 8. I knew what I'd done as soon as the door closed. I started walking up the street. I can’t believe I just did that. I never thought I would have enough courage in myself to run away.

First I swore at her, and then I took the photo of my dad, me and my mom and smashed it on the ground. It shattered into pieces. She started yelling at me at the top of her lungs I thought to myself. Me acting like this? It's like she doesn’t know me anymore. Does she still love me? "Well she has to, I’m her daughter," I thought to myself aloud.

I was almost at the end of the street when a bright light appeared out of the darkness. I could see someone standing in the way. I didn’t understand it at first. I thought it was just a car, but as I got closer to the light I saw a figure. Was it Dad? Or was it someone weird? I started getting closer to the figure. It was Dad. I was shocked to see him. I usually don't believe in ghosts but when I saw Dad, I totally believe in ghosts now. It looked like this isn’t where Dad wanted to be. I wanted to grab his hand but I couldn’t feel it. I looked up at him. I could read his lips and they said, “Go To The Box.” He just disappeared after that.

I started walking home with my head down. As I got closer I could see the anger in Mom’s face. I ran to her and started crying. "I am so sorry mom! Will you forgive me?" I said.

"Well, of course I forgive you; just don’t do it again!" Mom said.

I ran up the stairs to Dad's den. It smelt like Dad. I kept thinking of what Dad said to me, “ Go To The Box”. I started looking through his cabinets. All I found was birth certificates, papers, and billing things. I tried looking for the box. I looked in the drawers in his desk. I found a small box, but I wasn’t sure if that was it. I opened it and all it had was pictures of me and Mom. I took a quick glance around the room. I saw a metal box on top of the cabinet. I took it down and opened it.

What I found was things of my Mom's, a camera, and a birth certificate indicating that I am adopted. Right away I ran to my mom and she told me the whole story. I was born on January 24, 1997. My birth mother died after giving birth to me and my dad couldn’t take care of me so he put me up for adoption. That’s when my new mom and dad adopted me.

But after 8 years, Dad became ill with a brain tumor. They didn’t catch it early enough so he died. After Mom told me the story, I understood a lot more. I looked through the box again. I found a picture of me when I was a baby with a necklace on. I found the same necklace in the box. It fit me.

I was happy because I have something from my original parents and a new family that loves me and cares for me.

The next morning the house filled with sunlight. I could sense that Dad had moved on. I visited his grave that afternoon. I put the picture of Mom, him and me when I was 7 months old beside his grave. I miss him terribly but I now know that he told everything.

By: Natasha Baran