1994

I sat in my own world. The hard familiar bench was a reminder of how many times I had listened to everyone talk around me. It had gotten mundane.

"53C9J624P7...." the Judge began rattling the cause number off by memory.

Every three months without fail, plus all of the emergency order courts, since the day I turned 9. Today I was celebrating my 17th. The same Judge always presided, with the same District Attorney & CASA. Albeit a brand-new Child Service worker, every single time, and a representative from the current placement. It was the same conversation every time. Judge asks for everyone's insights, progress (or lack thereof) and for their recommendations.

Mary, my CASA worker placed her hand gently on my knee and pulled my attention forward. The Judge was making eye contact with me, so I knew she was waiting for my response.

I glanced at the floor. "I am sorry your Honor, could you repeat that?"

"What do you have to add? Do you feel that what they have proposed here today is ideal?" She repeated.

I moved my eyes to hers. She stared at me determinately. At some point the dynamic between she and I had shifted. I first entered this court with a battery charge. I was 9 years old in a court completely out of my element. She was stern then, sentencing me to probation and an ever-constant presence in her court. I progressed in my behavior, never for the better. Curfew violations, shoplifting, theft, assault, gang activity and a grand theft auto charge all by age 13. At my arraignment she let me know under no uncertain terms would this be let go. I was looking at a long time in a secure facility.

My trial was set to start in a few weeks when on my 14th birthday I entered her court as a CHINS case. That day I wasn't a delinquent kid always in trouble. I was broken, scared and defeated. That was the first time she personally took me into her chambers and spoke to me.

She had the file my caseworker had assembled. I needed emergency placement and nowhere to go. I had no family and those I had were sitting in a jail cell awaiting trial. She sorted through the file and haphazardly glanced thru a black notebook. Her expression turned somber.

"You were never a bad kid; you were asking for help and I failed you." She was looking into my eyes. "I cannot promise you today, tomorrow a month or year from now that you will be happy. I can promise I will always listen, to you, from this day forward."

I nodded my understanding, that day I did not speak.

Every court hearing after she and I spoke alone. She always rummaged through the black notebook, smiling as we sat my goals and I bragged after achieving them. I completed the programs and classes required of the placements and was able to move into Foster Care. I attended public school and worked a part time job. She always placed me where the state suggested. However, She and I had our own plans inside her chambers. She understood the states plan of aging out of the system at 21. She never wanted me to age out, she motivated me to work on independent living. I worked, studied and built a really impressive academic record. I had applied to multiple colleges across the country and received acceptances to two. I would not be able to do that if the state won today.

Today I knew I would talk.

"Your Honor if I May?" I gave her a questioning look.

"You May." She stated simply.

"I request emancipation. I have graduated High School. I have maintained my job for the last year and a half and I bought my own car. I have been accepted to my choice University, that happens to be out of state. I have earned multiple scholarships and because of my CHINS status I have a fully funded education. I have also saved two thousand dollars to help with the transition so far away." I was trying to catch a breath. I had never spoken so fast in my life.

The Judge glanced across the court; my eyes followed. Everyone sat in awe.

I wasn't a problem case, so I wasn't a case at all. They just assumed I was regular course of action person. No, I was determined.

"You, in my chambers." The Judge broke through the awkward silence.

In the beginning I would have froze at her words, now I find them comforting, I stood and followed her from the courtroom. I sat adjacent to her big wood desk. The stiff leather chair squeaked as I slid into it. As she sat across from me, she took out my file. Its worn cover showing its frequent handling.

She pulled out the black notebook I had gotten so familiar with. She slid it across the table. She had skimmed that black notebook every time I had encountered her. To say I was intrigued was the understatement of the century. I glided my hand over the soft cover. In all of these years I had never noticed the engraving on the front.

The words "My Darling Granddaughter" and an image of a muskrat graced the cover. I vaguely remembered being called that. My heart ached at the thought. I carefully opened the cover. The smell of worn paper and ink greeted me like an old friend. Aged beautiful writing graced the page.

"How did you get this?"

"It is my understanding that the night you came into the system your parents contacted an attorney. Someone they presumed to be a family friend. He came to the station and requested to speak only with the lead investigator. He asked that this be placed into your personal property not to be released to you until you became an adult. He was a friend of the family, just not your parents." She replied matter-of-factly.

I looked to the open page. The writing was beautiful, like calligraphy. It was shaky, stoic and flowed with purpose.

"I am not an adult yet."

"You will be by days end." She stated simply.

My eyes focused on the task at hand.

Muskrat,

You are the first Grandchild gifted to me. Your mother was set to have you on my birthday but from birth you have demanded your own way. Born the day after my birthday by 18 minutes! I always knew your independence was fierce.

I fear the adversity and hardship you will face will be extremely challenging, I have attempted to help through this and my hands are tied. My Muskrat, you are resilient and you will not let this shape you. You'll be faced with chances to make good choices and bad. It is your decisions that will make you better than your surroundings.

You have fight young girl. Use it. Know I have always hoped fate would have bestowed you better.

Love,

DarDar

It was dated from when I was 4. The little black notebook had waited on me 13 years. I hadn't felt the tears until the drops began to stain the paper. I glanced through the notebook, most pages listed company names and policy numbers. Some things made no sense to me at all.

"What is this?" I asked.

"It is his gift to you." She answered and continued whatever it was she was doing.

On the back of the notebook was inscribed: If you have questions call 915-555-1234.

"Can we call, so I can ask questions?"

She dialed the number and placed it on speakerphone. An older gentleman answered after several rings.

"Hello?"

"Hi." I tried to push the word out.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"I don't know if you can, I don't know if I have the right number, I'm not really sure......"

"Let's make this easy." he interjected. "How is it you came to have my number?"

"It's in the little black notebook my grandfather left me." I replied trying to catch a breath.

"Ah, Uhm, Huh," he was mumbling, you could hear him shuffling about. "I was not expecting this call for another year." He stated finding his words.

"She has been emancipated as of today." She answered.

"Oh, that's wonderful! Has she graduated High School?"

See, they always talk around you.

"With a 3.8 GPA." She was responding.

They spoke a little longer, and ended the call with an in-person meeting scheduled later that day.

We walked back into the courtroom and to everyone's astonishment she granted my emancipation and expunged my juvenile criminal record. After everyone had left, we sat there in silence.

Everything had moved so fast; 45 minutes ago, I was a foster kid who had all their needs met. I panicked at what I would do tonight. Where would I stay? School was not set to start for 4 more months. My thoughts were racing!

"Ahem."

"Your Honor?"

"He is here."

The bailiff was escorting an older gentleman to where I was sat.

"I have waited a long time for this day, young lady." He said as he shook my hand. "I've called the caretaker and they're getting the house ready as we speak."

"Excuse me?!" Everything was confusing me. House? Caretaker?

"You should probably start simple. She's had a big day and lots of change in a small amount of time." The judge observed.

"Okay, short version. Your Grandfather passed when you were 4. He left your mother a small trust she forfeited when she ended up in jail. He knew you'd not be in the best situation, so he thought to when he could help." He looked to see I was following. " He knew your parents weren't to be trusted and knew your best chance was once you were away from them. I am not sure he knew the situation would end up the way it did. He wanted you secure the day you left their house anyway. Hence the adult stipulation. Also, the high school and college acceptance stipulations. See through everything he knew you would go through he hoped you'd always want more than they gave, and you did! You went through an even rougher experience."

I was still confused.

"He decided to leave you his house regardless. If you hadn't graduated it would have come with rent costs. You, having finished, get it with a trust to pay expenses while you're in college.'

I cut him off," School starts in 4 months, out of state."

"The trust helps with those expenses. Do you have the black notebook?"

I handed it to him.

"Do you see this page here? This is an investment firm; this page is the property management company that takes care of rental properties and this page is the banking policy information you will need. He still has stipulations in place because he knows that you will add your greatness to what he has left you."

I sat there stunned. I had lost my words.

"So, are you really worried about the future?" The Judge brought me back.

"I mean, I, Uhm, so like is all this like really going on or did I just fall asleep during court? You know some of those meds really make your dream live, like you know it's happening, but then it's not happening, but you feel it happen."

"It's real" They both said simultaneously, ending my rambling.

"And, we can take this slow." He added.

I looked down to the black soft covered notebook. My hand drawn to the engraving.

It wasn't a day. A week. A month or even a year. It took three years, determination, hard work and a fierceness only she born 18 minutes after her grandpa could carry.

For the first time she felt happy; and it all started with a soft cover black notebook with three little words engraved.