You’ve lived a relatively normal life, so it came as a huge surprise your mom and dad sat you down to inform you on your 18th birthday that you were, in fact, found abandoned near a donation bin. You stared at them, wide-eyed. And then, you burst out laughing hysterically – the kind of laugh that draws sympathy. But you wouldn’t have known that.
“You guys just want me to get out of the house, don’t you?” you said, huffing out your words as you laughed. It was one of those moments when your mind prefers delusion over truth – a truth that is too cruel to consider.
Your Mom’s face was clouded with anxiety earlier but, as your laughter died down, you realized her face was sinking into what seemed like sorrow. She lowered her eyes, about to cry. Your Dad held her hand while maintaining his gaze at you. You had never seen him this blank.
So this is not a prank.
Your face was stiff. You didn’t know how to react. You had a flashback – your entire life running in your mind like a movie. You were looking for clues if anything your parents did that indicated that you were not their biological child. Your mother doted on you, kissing your forehead as a ritual every morning before you left for school. You’d grumble, wipe your forehead, and dart towards the door while your mother giggled. Your father was like your partner-in-crime. He had taught you baseball and was your partner on game night when your friends bailed on you.
“Okay. So?” you sighed.
Your parents stared at you, puzzled.
“Did it matter to you for the last 18 years?”
“Of course not!” your father exclaimed.
“Do you know why we named you Ray?” said your mother. “Because you were our ray of sunshine, our ray of hope.” You saw a glow in her eyes. She didn’t seem sad anymore.
“Does Sara know?” you asked. It would have been embarrassing if his younger sister would find out he was found bundled near a donation bin.
“No. She doesn’t. Neither does she need to know.” you father said firmly.
“Well, then it’s settled,” you concluded.
“Are you okay, son?” your father asked.
The word ‘son’ had never had more meaning than it did today. How lightly you had taken these words – dad, mom, son, sister. Today, you would do anything to keep them all close. You were, truly, nothing without them.
You knelt before them and held their hands. “Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. Thanks for bringing me home. Thanks for loving me so much. Thanks for not giving me up to an orphanage.” You hugged them both and cried.
Sara barged in. “Hey! You guys are having a family hug without me!” Sara squealed. She dropped her school bag and ran towards you. She climbed on you and opened her arms as wide as she could to wrap you, dad, and mom. You were glad she came by because she got everyone to giggle.
That evening you went for a stroll. You needed to talk to yourself. Why would your biological parents be so cruel? Did you have parents or was it just your mother? Why did she abandon you like that? No, she left you to die. The word ‘abandoned’ would have been apt if she’d left you at the church doorstep. But she bundled you in a bunch of clothes and left you by the donation bin. Were you an accidental, unpleasant surprise from her teenage misadventures? You wished she had left a letter, a note. Just for a closure.
You reached the donation bin where you were found as a baby. It was a mile from your home. You passed it every day, never knowing this was… you. You stood there, looked around as though you would find something. You left. But before leaving, you forgave her.
