I was 14 years old, and my younger brother Samuel was only 6, when circumstances separated our family. Social services decided I was too young to take care of him, and we were separated. On the day they took him away, I swore to myself: I will do everything to bring us back together.
The first months were the hardest. Samuel was moved from one foster family to another, and I could only see him during short visits supervised by social workers. Every time we said goodbye, he would ask: “When can I finally live with you?” I would squeeze his little hand and say: “Soon, little one. I promise.”
To make that day come, I started working. In the morning as a courier, during the day I helped at an auto repair shop, and in the evening I cleaned at a school. After work, I attended night classes to earn my school certificate. I saved every penny for the future — I dreamed of a small but cozy apartment where Samuel would have his own room.
My landlady, Mrs. Rachel, seeing my efforts, one day offered: “I have a free room upstairs. If you renovate it, you can live there with your brother.” It was a chance! I worked at night — painted the walls blue (Samuel’s favorite color), collected furniture from flea markets, and sewed curtains from old dinosaur bedsheets.
When the social worker, Frances, came for an inspection, she spent a long time looking at the room. “You’re really trying,” she finally said. “But willingness alone is not enough. You have to prove you can handle it.”
I gathered all the documents: proof of employment, references from teachers, even a letter from Samuel’s current foster family, in which they wrote that he constantly says he wants to return to me. A lawyer recommended by Mrs. Rachel helped me file for custody.
The judge studied my file for a long time. The courtroom was silent — I could hear my own heartbeat. “I may be young,” I said when I was given the chance to speak, “but no one loves Samuel like I do. And no one will fight for him harder.”
We waited an eternity for the decision. “Considering all the circumstances…” the judge adjusted his glasses, “…I believe the brothers should be together.”
That evening, for the first time in a long while, Samuel and I had dinner together — just the two of us. A simple pizza on the floor of our new room felt like the most delicious meal in the world. “You know,” he said, hugging his worn-out teddy bear, “I always knew you’d come back for me.
Today, Samuel is already 10 years old. He goes to school, is interested in dinosaurs, and dreams of becoming a paleontologist. And I’m studying at college and working to give us a decent life. Sometimes in the evenings, we sit on the porch and remember everything we had to go through. Now, Samuel and I run a blog where we help other teenagers in difficult situations. If our story can inspire someone — then it was all worth it.
A real family isn’t where it’s comfortable, but where you are loved and wanted. And if you’re fighting for someone you care about — don’t give up. Even when it feels like the whole world is against you.
