Tag Archives: orphan

Citizen of Ville Joie – Everything will be fine

28 Thursday Mar 2013

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt taken from the real part of my story, Daryl finds out who is behind his introduction to his agent.

“…Also a proof of how much at peace am I now is when my phone vibrates and I calmly reach for it to see who is texting me instead of feeling the need to run for a defibrillator.

It’s Annie. The image of her face is the perfect background for my current state of mind. And her words, her words are like a light at the end of this dark tunnel I entered a few weeks ago.

“I’m at your house,” her message begins. “Stop by our bakery on your way home, will you? I know it’s only Thursday but we owe each other a Sunday.”

In this one message is all ever I wanted to know and I close my eyes to sink it all in before looking down at my phone to type “Thank you” and send it.

Just as I’m about to lean closer to the microphone and ready myself to resume my show, Annie, who can type much faster than I could ever dream of, sends me her response.

“You’re welcome. Don’t forget to thank Lenny too.”

I’ll never deny that I owe Lenny a whole lot but I find it strange that Annie would mention him and remind me to thank him today of all days. I’m about to go back on the air and I have very little time for a lengthy exchange so I just ask “Why Lenny?”

“He and Chuck are old friends,” she answers. “Lenny told me about Linden&Baker and gave Chuck a heads up.”

I didn’t see that coming. I can now see how it was possible for me to trust Chuck so completely and so fast. He’s Lenny. Well, Lenny with a lot more money. I just now realize that in my selfishness, it never occurred to me to ask Annie how it was she came to know that an agency as prestigious as Linden&Baker was looking to expand it’s representation business to Media personalities like me.

Everything seems to be falling in place. Annie is still in my life, Lenny is still in my career and now, the guys from Corporate are giving me the thumbs up. Earlier, I dared think maybe I was going to be fine. Now I know.

“I’ll thank him,” I write to Annie. “Right after I deny you pastries for hiding that from me.”

I would do as she does and add a smily face thing, an “emocon” I think it’s called, to make sure she knows I’m only kidding except I’m too new at this and I have no clue how to do it…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – The lowest step

29 Tuesday Jan 2013

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl returns home after the surgery.

“…At night, any unusual sound or movement coming from bedroom wakes up Gerard and sends him rushing to my bedside to check on me. I return to school on the Monday morning with a giant protruding nose in the middle of my face, but nobody mocks me having been warned by the principal not to do so. As the days past, the pain slowly disappears and I resume the normal life of a normal child with a desire for peace and an appetite for all good things life has to offer I never knew existed in me.

A couple of weeks later, we celebrate our first Christmas together. In the afternoon of Christmas eve, one of Gerard’s friends visits us dressed up like Santa. While, I’m grateful for the thought I’m not impressed since I don’t come from a place that made it easy to believe in fairytales and as such, I can’t remember ever believing in Santa Claus.

We spend that evening just the three of us, keeping toasty warm by a small wood burning stove in the basement. This night is so peaceful and I feel so safe, if anybody asked me what these moments mean to me, the first word to come out of my mouth would be family. Not because it’s the the word they would want to hear but because it is truly, and finally, how I feel.

This night is quite the contrast compared to what Christmas was like at the orphanage. I can still remember the anxiety growing inside of me as preparations were underway for my first Christmas in Happy Town.

I was sitting on the lowest step of a very tall ladder that had been used to hook the Christmas ornaments in a giant tree. Well, it seemed giant but then again I was six or seven years old, so anything appeared giant next to me. The adults had been running like headless chickens all day setting things up for the big night which was now just a few moments away. In the weeks prior, I had heard the other kids at school describe what a Merry Christmas was going to be like for them. The words they used sounded quite beautiful but none of them rang a bell. I just thanked God the teacher never called on me to tell my story because my only memory of Christmas until then was sitting by the cranked up electric stove with my brothers and my sister, the oven door halfway down to keep us somewhat warm. There were no presents to unwrap and the only few words that were spoken were from my sister, the oldest, to remind us it was indeed Christmas morning.

A couple of short years later, I was living in an orphanage and getting ready to celebrate Christmas for the first time. I sat on the step of that ladder not by choice, but because I felt crushed by the weight of excitement on one shoulder and envy on the other. I just happened to be closer to the ladder than I was to a chair when the weight became too much for me to bear. Thanks to the other kids at school, I had discovered what Christmas was supposed to be and it wasn’t what had been in the making all day. At the same time now, thanks to the orphanage, I knew what being safe and warm on a cold and special winter night felt like. I was overwhelmed equally by desire and gratitude and I couldn’t handle it.

When she noticed the look on my face, Carol one of our beloved educators pulled a chair to sit in front of me and softly asked what was wrong. Of all the many valuable lessons I kept from the orphanage, honesty was the one they taught us with the most consistency, so when Carol asked her question, all I could do was tell her the truth. I told her I felt happy and excited about the night to come but that I felt kind of bad for also wanting what the other kids at school were having with their families at that very moment. I told her I knew Christmas was not supposed to be what it was about to be for me. Carol consoled me, and convinced me to try and live in the moment so as not to miss the little joys life was so desperately trying to give me.

So I went along with it as we, the orphans, accompanied by the educators who had also brought in a few special guests and marched to the small auditorium of the orphanage to celebrate Christmas. There, we were treated to an entertaining show of skits and songs put together and performed by the police officers of the local precinct. All year long, they had raised money through various events and rehearsed their performances just so they could buy us gifts and entertain us on Christmas night. They had left their families behind on the most important night of the year to spend it with us. I received two gifts; a guitar and a small work table with real tools. I laughed and sang all evening long.

For these few hours, it no longer mattered what the other children from school were enjoying on their side. I was no longer aware of where I was or even that I was an orphan. In the course of one night, I learned about kindness, about the generosity and joy that can be found regardless of where you sit. Even if it’s on the lowest step of a very tall ladder…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

A Christmas Story

24 Monday Dec 2012

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I can still remember the anxiety storming inside of me.

I was sitting on a lower step of a ladder that had been used to hook the Christmas ornaments in the giant tree. Well, it seemed giant to me but, I was six or seven years old, so everything appeared giant next to me. The adults had been running like headless chickens all day making preparations for the big night which was now just a few moments away. In the weeks prior, I had heard the other kids at school describe what a Merry Christmas was to them. I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about and I thank God the teacher never called on me to tell my story. My only memory of Christmas until then was sitting by the cranked up electric stove with my brothers and my sister by my side and the oven door open to keep us warm. There were no presents to unwrap and the only few words that were spoken were from my sister, the oldest, to remind us it was indeed Christmas morning.

A couple of short years later, I was getting ready for my first Christmas at the orphanage. I sat on the steps of that ladder not by choice, but because I felt overwhelmed by the winds blowing inside of me. I just happened to be closer to the ladder than I was to a chair when the emotions overtook my body. Thanks to the other kids at school, I discovered what Christmas was supposed to be and now thanks to the orphanage I knew what being safe and warm on a cold winter night felt like. I was overwhelmed simultaneously by envy and gratitude. And my young heart and mind couldn’t handle it.

When she noticed the look on my face, Carol, one of our beloved educators came and pulled a chair, sat in front of me and softly asked what was wrong. Of all the many valuable lessons of the orphanage, honesty was the one they taught us with the most consistency. So when Carol asked her question, all I could do was tell the truth. I told her I felt happy and excited for the night to come but that I felt bad for also wanting what the other kids at school had. I told her I knew Christmas was not supposed to be what it was about to be for me. Carol consoled me, and convinced me to try and live in the joy of the moment.

So we, the orphans, accompanied by the educators and a few special guests, marched to the small auditorium of the orphanage to celebrate Christmas. There, we were treated to an entertaining show of skits and songs put together and performed by the police officers of the local precinct. All year long, they had raised money through various events and rehearsed their performance just to buy us gifts and entertain us on Christmas night. They had left their families on the most important night of the year simply to be with us. I received a guitar, a work table with tools and I laughed and sang all night. For these few hours, it no longer mattered what the other children from school had. It no longer mattered where I was or even that I was an orphan. In one night, I learned about kindness, generosity and the joy that can be found no matter where you sit.

I remember the gifts because they were so extravagant for a child without a family and I remember the emotions because I was safe and warm.

If you work with children,

If you do something that gives happiness to those who are less fortunate,

Merry Christmas to you.

For my story, you may begin with this excerpt.

Citizen of Ville Joie – The pinch for Allan

12 Wednesday Dec 2012

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl recounts the last night of his last summer camp in Happy Town.

“A few more minutes of silence, long enough to realize and reflect on the fact that these are my last hours as an orphan, as a Citizen of Ville Joie, and we go to bed in the dormitory located in the main camp. As we have done so many nights before, we chat in whispers some more before we fall asleep. Our nightly conversation is going just fine and the mood is light until one of the other kids turns to Allan and I and asks if we are sad to know that, after we leave in the morning, we will never see each other again. Oh, the sensitivity of a child. Although it would have hit us tomorrow, hearing the words now makes it official right at this moment and I instinctively bury my face in my pillow so nobody sees me and begin to try and cry myself to sleep as I hear Allan in the bed next to mine do the same.

The certainty of this upcoming separation has always been indeed painful. When he left the orphanage the night before Gerard and Grace came to meet me, I thought I had lost him forever. It had all happened so fast, there was this feeling of something incomplete inside of me. Allan is after all the one who thought me what having a best friend is all about and he did it just by being himself. He is the one who made our friendship what it is by taking the lead, by playing along with me and by teaching me to play marbles. He means so much to me, I feel the need to give him all the credit for “Daryl and Allan”. Luckily though, I have shared with Allan so many experiences, all of them filled with such intense emotions in the few years we have spent in Happy Town that, with the chance offered by this last summer camp, nothing is left unsaid, there is now no unfinished business between us. The tears I let out in my pillow, one for each of the marbles we have won together, are just a final pinch to my heart, a pinch he has earned over the years of moments of us, interrupted only by stays with families. A pinch he has earned over the years of uninterrupted friendship we shared no matter where we were.

The following morning when we wake up, we feel much better and after one last breakfast sitting next to one another, when the time to leave actually comes, we say goodbye like the big boys that we now are and return to our families.

I will never see Allan again.

I return with Gerard and Grace and the rest of the summer goes by very slowly, just like it’s supposed to be when you’re a kid…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad.

I do not have representation.

Citizen of Ville Joie – The unexpected

03 Saturday Nov 2012

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl gets ready to me meet his fifth family.

“While I lay in bed, images are flashing in my mind so fast, it’s hard to keep up with the story they tell. I revisit the moment I first met Allan in the orphanage’s backyard, the time we spent together playing marbles, the day we “ran away”, our last hours with the interns and finally, seeing him leave with his new family by his side. In between the images of Allan, a few thoughts for myself as well as several heart beats skipped at the idea of a family coming to visit me tomorrow. Although I was told earlier they were not taking me with them immediately, that it would be just a visit at first, I know soon they will come and take me away with them. So many different but equally intense emotions fighting inside of me once more and I’m still not equipped to know which ones to entertain first. Exhausted from the crying and from the all these images bouncing in my head, somewhere before the end of the first run of the Cat Stevens reel, I fall asleep with my face buried in my pillow, soaked wet from my tears.

Upon waking up in the morning, I feel much better already. It’s a school day and I have these visitors coming to see me after dinner. I have to tell Gerard all about it since he has made me promise the next time they would find a family for me, I would tell him first. The moment the bus drops me off at school, I hurry to the yard where I spot my friend and run as fast as I can in his direction. I look at him in silence with a big smile on my face, which puzzles him.

“What’s with you today, Daryl?”

“Guess what Gerard? They found a family for me!”

“That’s great! I always knew you would be just fine Daryl”, he said. “With a bit of luck it won’t be too far from here so we can still see each other!” That’s why I like him so much, he seems so genuinely happy for me and he makes me feel like I matter to him. He has no stakes in this, he is only the custodian at my school but he truly believes in me. It’s no wonder I seek out his company.

“I hope so too Gerard. They’re coming to see me after dinner today. I’ll tell you all about it at lunch and tomorrow”.

I go to class with my heart racing while I keep an eye on the clock all day, which certainly doesn’t help time seem to go faster. At lunch I rush to the schoolyard to see Gerard but to my disappointment he isn’t on duty which saddens me because I really wanted discuss my good news more with him more in details.

Somewhere in the afternoon, it occurs to me that I have never felt excited about meeting a family before. Fear is usually what I feel as well as anxiety and whatever else overwhelms me in a mostly negative way in the hours preceding the meeting. Now and for the first time, there is also hope. I’m not sure where it comes from and how to handle it. This isn’t something I’m familiar with and when it rises inside of me, so does my discomfort and at times so intensely, I have to focus to keep breathing normally, to slow down my heart and I fight with everything I have to tame down this emotion, with mixed results I must admit. Repressing what feels good is now well on its way of becoming a reflex.

When the bell finally rings to announce the end of the classes for the day, I run for the bus as if my life depends on it. Today is “SPECIAL”. Today I do feel a little “SPECIAL”, so the sign on the front of the bus couldn’t be more right and I couldn’t be happier to get on it and take my seat.

The ride to Ville Joie seems to take forever so when I reach my destination, I fly up the stairs and run through the cafeteria to go straight to my room. I am excused from all the chores I would normally be required to do so I can prepare for my visitors. On my bed, I lay down my pants, my shirt, my jacket and my damn clip-on tie to make sure they will be fresh and wrinkle free after dinner, which I get to eat early because I am so excited and also because I asked for more time to get ready. I want so badly to look my very best for the big moment. In fact, I have planned this so well that, when I am finally ready, there is still more than an hour until my new family is scheduled to arrive.

Giles and I sit side by side in the cafeteria to wait for them. He is usually the one who accompanies us during these moments. There is something about Giles that calms us down in stressful situations and his presence alone is enough to make the wait bearable. The educators know what is happening inside of us at any given moment, they know our minds are racing just as fast as our hearts and they know just what to say, just what to do to bring back some sort of a balance in what we are feeling. I have spent the whole day hoping for this moment while at the same time dreading it. In the last few years, it seems life has given me just enough maturity to now know I have to do the best I can to make a good first impression on the people I’m about to meet and it is clear to me that, this time, I have to give a real effort to make things work. I can no longer hide behind innocence or youth; I have been here, at this very place at this very moment, too many times now. I know exactly how this plays out and I am confident I know what is expected of me.

And then just like that, I hear the side door leading to the cafeteria opening behind us and the steps of people walking in. Whatever confidence I was feeling a few seconds ago has been wiped out in an instant and I am suddenly so paralyzed by fear, I can’t even find the strength to turn around and look at them.

Giles notices me, frozen in my chair and says “They’re here, you want to stand and and say hello?”

I manage to get out of my chair and push myself up but I keep my head down while I turn around to face my new family. I take a deep breath and when I finally gather enough courage to raise my chin and look at them, my heart stops and my brain can’t process the scene offered to me.

It is…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad…and no I do not have representation!

Citizen of Ville Joie – The school bus…

28 Sunday Oct 2012

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl goes to school and gets ready to receive some news.

“Living at Ville-Joie is great but it isn’t all play. The weekdays fly by really fast because there is school to go to and the educators make sure there is as little down time as possible at night. So when bedtime comes, we don’t fight it.

For a few of us, weekday mornings are just as hectic as mornings in any other normal households as we get ready for school to which we are taken by bus and I despise it. Not school itself, but the bus ride. On the front of all the buses there is either a number or the name of the route identifying which bus it is. Not our bus, no. On the front of our bus is written the word “SPECIAL”. In black and capital letters. The other kids see that word every single day as our bus slowly parades in front of the school before it stops to drop us off. This is nothing less that a daily embarrassment. They might as well switch the word “SPECIAL” with “FREAKS” in neon lights. Getting on that bus five days a week is a reminder that I am different from the kids getting off the other buses in the morning and vice versa at night.

It helps that the school I go to this year is great. It’s small enough for everybody to know me but big enough that not everybody knows everything about me. I have a few friends I like and appreciate, who also appreciate me and for the time I spend with them, I don’t feel so much like an orphan. For these kids to be able to get passed that difference, it shows how great my new friends are.

I also made friends with the custodian of the school, Gerard, who is on surveillance duty every day during recess and lunch. Every day, I walk by his side in the schoolyard and talk his ear off about Ville Joie and the families I have been sent to so far, except for the D’s of course, that one is just for me to know about. Gerard is a kind man who seems truly interested in what life is like for us at the orphanage. I really enjoy his company, especially at lunch time when we can get into longer conversations. Whenever I say something funny, he puts his solid hand on my shoulder and erupts in the most genuine of laughter. Gerard makes me feel good about myself and it’s fair to say we’ve become good friends, although Allan remains my favorite and closest friend in the world. Still, I look forward to my daily routine with Gerard and I suspect he feels the same, at least I hope he does.

One day after school, at the end of spring with the school year entering its last stretch, our “SPECIAL” bus drops me off at Ville Joie and I do what I have always done, which is to enter through the side door of the building leading directly to the cafeteria where I am allowed a snack before I go do my homework. Only, that day, Allan is sitting there with Giles and they look as though they’ve been waiting for me, which is unusual. At this time of the day, the educators are normally busy in another room helping the other children with their homework, so I know something serious is happening. As I walk in their direction, I can’t miss the mildly somber look on Allan’s face. Giles invites me to sit to his left, positioning himself in the middle of our trio.

Giles turns to me and says “We have news to share with you Daryl. Allan, you want to tell him?”…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad…and no I do not have representation!

Citizen of Ville Joie – A case of cold hand

03 Monday Sep 2012

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl meets his new case worker.

“As my childhood years unfold, I cross paths with quite a few of these kind souls. People who care even when no one asked them to and ask absolutely nothing in return. Even I know that those paid to take care of me earn their paycheck and then some. The educators and Danielle are so dedicated I am sure they don’t even see the good they do. Although, I haven’t had a visit from Danielle in a little while but that is not like her. If she can’t come see me, she usually checks up on me through the educators who then go out of their way to tell me she called and inquired about me.

Late spring or very early summer, I receive a visit from a stranger, a man with red hair and a beige trench coat. Maybe it is just my mind working overtime working overtime here but my first thought when I see the man is, him and I, we should trade ties. The one tie I own is ridiculously too long for me and his is equally ridiculous but on the short side.

I really have no clue what his name is because when he introduces himself I am so shocked by how cold and wet his hand is, my mind goes numb. I do manage to get that he is taking over Danielle’s cases for a while and when I ask him where Danielle is, his answer is that this isn’t important for now and that we should focus on the future. He sounds obviously uninterested and the rest of him is as cold as his hand. A couple of minutes into our first meeting and I can already see that coming to visit me is part of his job, so there he is. I don’t understand why Danielle isn’t here and in return this man doesn’t appear to care or realize that in my situation, any scenario involving so much as a hint of abandonment could have serious repercussions on me.

Danielle is more than a case worker to me and I know for sure I am more than a case number to her, not because she told me so but because she showed me this much. When she comes to visit, which unfortunately has become less and less frequent now, we go for walks in the backyard or to a park together and have long conversations. She wants to know me well enough to be able to find me a family that is a good match. Her goal is not to find me a family so my case could end, she wants to find me a family so my life could finally begin. I am an actual part of her life, of her mission. This man sees me as part of his job and nothing more.

During this first meeting, he takes me to the toy department of a big store and tells me I can chose anything, so long as it costs under five bucks. When I set my eyes on Slime, the gooey green stuff that comes in a garbage can, he rolls his eyes and asks me if I would prefer something more “educational”. Who is this guy? Asking a seven year old if he would prefer to learn something instead of playing with smelly goo coming out of a small trash can. Plus, I know the other kids are going to go insane when they see me come back to the orphanage with a can of Slime in my hands. He agrees and buys it for me but with such an attitude, my only response is a prudish thank you and no excitement whatsoever, which in return worsens his mood a little but has the benefit of adding some much needed color to his pale face. He drives me back in silence to the orphanage and when we get there he doesn’t bother getting out of his car to walk me back inside. I stop on the steps and turn around to watch his car drive away hoping I never have to see him again. I hope Danielle comes back as soon as possible. A trip to a toy department with that man is no match for a walk in a park with Danielle.

Earlier at the store I asked who is this guy. Soon enough I will get my answer. Soon enough I will discover how costly it can be when a case worker does “his job right” instead of doing the right thing.

Oh Danielle, had you been there…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com This project is entirely written on an iPad…and no I do not have representation!

Citizen of Ville Joie – The discovery of attraction

18 Saturday Aug 2012

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl discovers attraction…

“I was so afraid to lose that magic, I never sought to hear his music and instead, let fate surprise me with precious and randomly chosen images of my past, reassured by the knowledge that his music only brings back the happiest of memories.

A few years ago, I was running errands and I was in line at the pharmacy when his song “Sitting” began playing on their radio, triggering a very specific memory to come back to me. Something I hadn’t thought about for many years. Something only a song by Cat Stevens could push up to the surface. The images were so vivid, I had to get out of the line and sit down in the waiting area to soak them in.

When I first arrived at Ville Joie, the government had just taken over the administration of the orphanage which had been, until that point, ran by nuns. By the time I got there, only a few of them had stayed and were still working there, like our nurse, Sister Lisa. Since the state was involved, the educators had to be specially trained or have some sort of university diploma in a program related to dealing with children such Special Education or Child Care Worker. This approach was fairly new and soon, a fresh group of students reached the part of their course where they had to spend some time in the field for their training. Sure enough, a bunch of them showed up at Ville Joie for their internship which was scheduled to last a few months.

We loved our educators madly and we would never have traded any of them, for all the marbles in the world but, these interns were new faces, new voices, new everything and to a child, “new” is irresistible. So on their first day, a group of young interns stood in front of us in a little group and introduced themselves one after the other. Of course, I can’t remember all of their names, only two of them.

First there was Pete who was very tall, had incredibly large shoulders and a deep voice. He seemed so strong, he looked like he could carry all of us on his large back, a theory we once proved.

“Hi, my name is Pete” resonated throughout the entire room turned silent at the sound of his voice.
Then, from behind Pete, I heard ” Hi, my name Andrée” spoken with the sweetest, the softest voice of them all. I stretched my neck to try and get a look at the girl who had just introduced herself. I could see her feet, her legs and her hands but whenever I moved to see her face, Pete would be blocking my view. That voice moved something in me and I was overpowered by the need to see the girls’s face. I looked around the room and all of the other kids were acting normally, it was as if they had simply heard her name while I had heard something completely different, a presageful whisper intended just for me as a warning that something was about to change inside of me. Still, no matter how hard I tried or how I positioned myself, big Pete was in the way.

After the other interns introduced themselves, it was our turn to say our names and when it came to me, I shouted “DARYL” in Pete’s direction in the hope Andrée would stick her head out to see who would yell his name in such a way but it didn’t work; all it did was draw a huge laugh from the entire room which made me feel pretty stupid. Finally we were invited to go meet the new guys and shake their hands so I stood up and tried to reposition myself to see the face of the girl with the beautiful voice. Still no luck; the others had already overwhelmed the interns and since I was so small, all I could see were the back of the heads of my friends as well as the adults’ belt buckles.

I stayed at the back, looking down, and I was about to give up on my quest to see Andrée’s face when Giles came up to me to say it was ok to join in, so I walked right inside the group and was stopped by Pete whose hand made mine disappear when he shook it. I met the other interns, shook their hands as well and then, when I was no longer expecting it, the mysterious girl who’s sweet voice had cause such turmoil inside of me was right there, smiling and looking at me. She had short brown hair split in the middle as it was brought into fashion by Dorothy Hamill at the time, big blue eyes, porcelain skin she obviously knew didn’t need any makeup and a smile to die for. Andrée was a stunning beauty. “Weak in the knees” is not just an expression because when I saw her face for the first time, I dropped about two inches before I instinctively pushed myself back up bearing a look on my face that surely revealed I had no clue what was happening to me. I regrouped the best I could and looked at her face again for a few more seconds with my eyes, and probably my mouth, wide opened.

Andrée broke the awkward silence by saying “Aren’t you Daryl? I like the way you said your name earlier, with gusto!”

“Who’s Gusto?” I asked, quite seriously…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com This project is entirely written on an iPad…and no I do not have representation!

Citizen of Ville Joie – Stain on a soul

05 Sunday Aug 2012

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl takes responsibility for his failure to stay with the P family…

“About a week after the “family” conference, I find myself sitting in the car with Mr P who doesn’t need to tell me where we are going and when we reach our destination, he walks with me through the side entrance of Ville Joie and once inside, with much difficulties, he goes down on one knee to give me a kiss on the cheek and and hugs me with genuine affection before leaving. There is no long conversation, there are no tears, there is no blame or guilt assigned. Of that moment, I keep only the memory of a kind, heartfelt kiss goodbye and Mr P leaving me alone by the door with my suitcase at my feet.

It is a weekday and the other kids have either gone to school or are busy in the arts and crafts room, so it is pretty quiet in the building. I walk in the cafeteria carrying my suitcase and I find the educators sitting together at a table. I smile at them but they barely stop what they were doing and Giles tells me to go put my belongings under my bed, stressing that there is no point reminding me where it is since it is “still the same, as usual”. I go to my bed, unpack my suitcase and resume life in Happy Town doing my best to make it as if I have never left.

On the outside everything seems normal; I double down on making people laugh at school and I am a model citizen of Ville Joie. Inside of me however, I feel rotten. I know it isn’t normal to lock myself out like I did with the P family. I know I have disappointed them immensely and I keep seeing the moment I answered Mr P’s question like a movie playing over and over in my mind. I can still see his face change and his head go down in defeat. Nothing will ruin your day like reliving the moment you let somebody down.

I could hide behind my young age and say that with all that was happening to me and around me, I didn’t think about the repercussions my selfish behavior might have on others and on my own life. Nobody would hold it against me if I said I was only responding with my instincts following traumatic events. I could even get away with saying that it is unfair to rest the burden of his own future on a child’s shoulders by asking him a question and expect one very specific answer. How I tried to take refuge behind my youth, behind its innocence and behind the rough moments experienced along the way. But as the years hurried by me and I collected some dust of wisdom they kindly left in their trail, I came to see how heartbreaking it must have been for the P family to open their door and their hearts to a small boy in need and to be, in essence, rejected by him.

All the excuses or even the perfectly valid explanations in the world can’t ease the grief I still feel to this day whenever I think about how I turned down their invitation to join them on the path they wanted to set for my future. I assure you, it has nothing to do with regrets about how my life turned out, nor am I convinced my journey would have been easier by their side; no one can possibly know that for sure. I just think of all the efforts they made to give me everything I needed and should have wanted. I think of their kindness and then I think of my unwillingness to return their affection or to at the very least give a tiny bit of it back to them as they so deserved.

And so there is a stain on my soul. A stain which fades a little with every hair turning grey, but a stain nonetheless, and one that will never completely go away.

More when we return after the news….”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com
Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad…and no I do not have representation!

Citizen of Ville Joie – The look of pride

28 Saturday Jul 2012

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Please read “About this project and the Author” for more information on my project. In this excerpt, Daryl is told another family is coming for him…

“We return to Happy Town, to school and to our usual lives. On a Saturday morning in October, Danielle comes to Ville Joie to tell me that another family will be coming to pick me up in the following days. This should be the kind of news worthy of a celebration, and it normally is but even if months have passed since my experience with the D family, it is still fresh in my memory and I know how a dream can turn into a nightmare in an instant. I also know, however, that I don’t have a say in these matters. If a family is coming to pick me up, then I have no other choice but to go with them, surrender the safety of the orphanage and trade it for the unknown. Of course I don’t say any of this out loud but Danielle senses my apprehensions and promptly tells me that this family is made of a good and caring couple with two happy daughters and insists that all of them are incredibly excited at the prospect of having me in their lives.

So a few days later I pack up my suitcase once again, put on my suit which is still two sizes too large, still includes that damn clip-on tie and march to the visitor’s lounge where I sit and wait to meet another group of strangers about to become my family. I am filled with anxiety and the clip of my tie is digging in my throat making it difficult to breathe. Even with Danielle’s reassuring words I still worry about what is going to happen to me; I can’t just ignore the possibility of the past repeating itself and I know just how vulnerable I will become once the doors of Ville Joie will close behind me. The images of my previous family are still clear in my head, the memory of the fear overwhelms me and the pain, well, the pain never really went away.

As I wait with my suitcase at my feet, Allan stops by the lounge to say goodbye, along with some of the other children. The educators permit that sometimes whenever the schedule allows it. I have been on their side a few times, on the side of those saying goodbye and wishing the best to another orphan about to leave with a new family. Each time, I could see a look of pure happiness on that orphan’s face. The kind of happiness that can only be fueled by the pride of a new found identity as well as by the chance, now within grasp, of a shot at a better life. Imagine, one moment an orphan, and the next, a child. Just a child with a father, a mother, a family. For us in Happy Town, these words are usually whispered late at night in the dormitory as part of the stories we tell each other before we go to sleep. But at that moment and for that lucky orphan, the stories become real and the whispers can now be said loud enough for everyone to hear. I tell you, for that orphan and for those looking on, it is quite a moment.

That day however, I don’t feel that look of happiness on my face and I don’t feel that pride inside of me. The D family took that moment away from me and for the three short months I spent with them, they left me with fear instead of joy and anxiety instead of pride. I see how Allan and the others are truly happy for me so I act out the scenario that has been rehearsed in that room a few times before, talking, smiling and making the others laugh. When the P family shows up I can immediately feel their kindness which allows me to calm down a little. Danielle was right, they seem like a very happy group. Mr and Mrs P are all smiles, their two daughters are incredibly nice and rush to stand right next to me, one on each side, the very moment they enter the room.

After a few more minutes with Allan and the others, we say goodbye and leave Ville Joie…”

Do not reproduce or copy the content of this post as it is the sole property of citizenofvillejoie.com
Contact: steve.marchand@rogers.com

This project is entirely written on an iPad…and no I do not have representation!