I agreed to watch my cousin’s 6-year-old, Farrah, for an hour, but she was a whirlwind—spilling juice on my laptop and screaming over yogurt. My cousin then casually extended her absence to the next day, then admitted she was in Miami for the weekend. Furious, I drove Farrah to her mom’s, only to learn she’d left with some guy.
Stuck with Farrah, I took her for pizza, where she surprised me by behaving and calling me her “best friend.” Despite her chaos, I saw her spark. Learning my cousin frequently abandoned Farrah, I sought temporary guardianship with my aunt’s support. My cousin didn’t fight it, eventually relinquishing custody entirely, moving
to Atlanta. After months of paperwork, I gained full custody. Farrah thrived—sleeping better, drawing more, making friends. Now in second grade, she’s obsessed with space and rollerblading. We talk about her mom honestly; I tell her love sometimes means letting go. Farrah asked if I felt “stuck” with her. I said I was chosen. Losing a cousin gained me a daughter. Farrah’s chaos and toothy grin gave me purpose. The worst day became the start of my best life.
