"She's our little sister," he continued. "She's at the wrong house."
"Well, she's our foster sister," I explained. "Her mom was really missing her. She needs to be with her mom."
"No," Jesse asserted. "She's our little sister."
It's been a year since we put our names back on the foster list. Six months since Mallory went home. And no new calls. I've been in touch with our people in the system, and yes, we're on the list. Salt Lake, for whatever reasons, actually has plenty of foster families for the moment. And, for whatever reasons, many people are requesting, like us, little girls. (But we have reasons for being so picky!)
I know I shouldn't complain since over and over again heaven has dropped pregnancies or foster children into our laps as soon as we decided we wanted them. (On a couple notable occasions, before we wanted them!) But it really feels like it's time to finish our family.
Just one more, I keeping telling myself. Just send me one more.
Where is our little sister?