Billie's Birthday

Billie has a birthday this week. Of course her name is not Billie anymore. And as many times as I try to reconstruct it and as good as I am with dates, I can’t quite let myself know how old she will be. I suppose for me, she will always be suspended somewhere between six and eight. Somewhere between being taken from her mother’s home, fighting, surviving the onslaught of a system that has no common sense idea of when parental rights should be terminated and being severed with finality from the teachers and substitute families that she clung to for those two years. Each year at this time, I try not to remember what the system did to Billie. (And to all of us) Instead I remember the power of Billie to cope and survive despite the atrocities of her childhood combined with the system that cut two years out of her life without every letting her say goodbye. I remember Billie's passion-defining untold story and all that it taught me. I wonder what Billie remembers?

Motherless Child
(Peter, Paul and Mary)

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
A long way from home, a long way from home.
Sometimes I feel like I’m almost gone
Sometimes I feel like I’m almost gone
Sometimes I feel like I’m almost gone
A long way from home, a long way from home.
Sometimes I feel like a mournin’ dove
Sometimes I feel like a mournin’ dove
Sometimes I feel like a mournin’ dove
A long way from home, a long way from home.
Sometimes I feel like an eagle in the air
Sometimes I feel like an eagle in the air
Sometimes I feel like an eagle in the air
A long way from home, a long way from home.
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
A long way from home, a long way from home.