Learning to Fly

As told to Devorah Grant

Igrip my red and black suitcase tightly and step out of my parents’ car, my palms clammy, heartbeat uncertain. My pillow is with me, as well as my purple blanket — beacons of security in the unknown that lies ahead. We’re here, at the famous ranch. The ranch is made for girls like me. As I glance up at the metal horse just outside the brick building, I wonder if this will be a place where I’ll finally be allowed to be me….

“Loser, you’re a loser,” my classmates taunt, pointing at my cleft lip while I shrink into hopeless oblivion. Just two more hours until home.

Here, I hope it will be different….

I meet the clinical director in the lobby, and my muscles begin to relax. She seems friendly, kind, and non-judgmental, as do the staff members who wave as they walk past. A fish blows gentle bubbles in the fish tank nearby; the water ripples. As I say goodbye to my parents, a butterfly of hope begins to flutter in my heart.

I’m led into the high-ceilinged dining room, where I’m introduced to the other girls and staff members. Over a colorful supper, we chat, slivers of our stories emerging. There’s a certain ease to it, a warmth. No one here expects me to have it all together, and that’s so different from anything I’ve ever experienced before.