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  • It's a beautiful autumn day as I sit in the backseat of our parent's car. My brother is in the seat next to me looking uncomfortable in his dress clothes. Personally I love my dress clothes. I'm wearing a cute little sky blue dress with white lace at the cuffs and bottom, white tights, and my black dress shoes. I'm excitedly looking out the window at all the tall buildings, the cars, and the people frantically rushing down the sidewalk. They all have different lives, different places to be, different things to do. It's amazing really to see everybody rushing around. The car stops. We have reached our destination. I look up at the building in front of us. The Franklin County Courthouse. Our mother holds my hand and our father holds my brother's hand as we look around for one of our many older sisters. We spot her and head towards the doors. She takes us through a maze of offices and courtrooms, until we reach the room we are scheduled to be in. As we walk in I notice that the room is smaller than courtrooms I had seen on television. The judge hasn't arrived yet and neither has the rest of our big family. All our siblings will be here today for this important occasion. My brother and I share one of the chairs closest to the judge's stand. Our mother and father sit in the other two chairs beside us. Slowly our siblings start to come in and take a seat in the back of the room. Finally we are all here. The judge comes in a few minutes later and we all stand. Once she takes her seat, we all sit and the ceremony begins. It's a long process and I get bored quickly and stop listening to what everybody is saying. My brother and I have to stand and say a few things, but it's not much and we sit back down shortly after standing. After what seems like a lifetime, we are finally done with the ceremony. Our mother and father are officially our parents. They sign a few papers and our last name is legally changed to theirs. After 5 long years in foster care, my brother and I have found a family that loved us enough to keep us. A feeling of joy spreads through my heart. Somebody wants us to be their children. Maybe not the woman who gave birth to us, but a woman and man who were strangers when we first met loved us enough to make us part of their family. Our struggles to find a family were answered and, best of all, my brother and I had not been separated in the process. At the ages of 7 and 8, my older brother and I had finally found a family.
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