Emily had long been planning to do it adopt a child from a childrens home. Her husband, after six years together and no children of their own, had left her for a younger, more successful woman. Emily felt exhausted by marriage; she no longer had the strength or desire to try again to build a family and find someone who would be through thick and thin. She decided enough was enough. If she was to spend her energy and warmth, she would direct it not toward a partner but toward someone who truly needed it.
So she set the plan in motion. She learned the procedures at the local councils childrens services department, gathered all the required paperwork, and then turned her attention to finding the boy who would become her son, her continuation, and the recipient of the love she had collected over thirtyeight years.
She didnt want a newborn; she feared she could not cope with a baby because she had passed the stage in life where a woman instinctively longs to stay up late, swaddle, rock and whisper to a tiny infant. Instead, she drove to the orphanage in search of a three to fiveyearold little chap who could become her own.
On the doubledecker bus she felt the tremor of nerves that one feels before a first date, and she barely noticed that spring had truly arrived in the city a fresh chill in the air and a brilliant sun breaking through. The bus rattled over the cobbles, and Emilys thoughts kept turning to the future child who already existed somewhere in the world, even though she had not yet met him.
Outside the windows the town bustled: motorbikes glinting in the sunlight, people hurrying to their destinations. No one on the street knew that Emily was on her way to meet her own happiness. She turned her face toward the window, but even the passing scenery slipped from view as a smile spread across her face, thinking of the son she would meet in a few minutes.
The stop was plainly marked Orphanage the very next one was Nursery. She stepped out and immediately saw an old manor with crumbling plaster on its columns, now mottled and camouflaged as if to hide from an unseen enemy.
Inside, a guard directed her to the headmistresss office. The woman who greeted her was far from young a matronly figure in a handknitted cardigan, her hair a silver halo. She looked a little rumpled, but her eyes revealed a woman who knew exactly where she belonged in life. Their conversation was brief; they had spoken on the phone just the day before.
Shall we go choose? the headmistress said, rising from her chair.
Emily followed obediently. Down a long corridor lined with darkblue panels, the headmistress called over her shoulder, The younger group is in the playroom now, so well go there. She pushed open the door, and both women entered the room.
Around fifteen children boys and girls were scattered on a carpeted floor among toy shelves. A caregiver sat at a small table by the window, scribbling notes, occasionally looking up to keep a watchful eye on the little ones.
As soon as the adults entered, the children rushed toward the door, swarming the two women. Some clung to Emilys knees, others to the headmistress, lifting their faces to the ceiling and shouting in unison:
This is my mum! Over here!
No, Ive found my mum! I saw her in my dream last night!
Pick me! Im your daughter!
The headmistress absentmindedly patted each childs head, offering Emily brief remarks about their personalities. Emily felt overwhelmed she wanted to take them all, especially the shy boy sitting on a small stool by the window, who had not yet approached the adults but instead turned his head to watch a familiar scene outside.
Drawn to him, Emily stepped forward and placed her hand gently on his head. From beneath her palm peered a pair of slightly slanted, hazel eyes set in a cheeky, freckled face with a broad nose and faint eyebrows. He was nothing like the child Emily had imagined in her mind. The boy, perhaps sensing her hesitation, said in a small voice,
Youre not going to pick me, are you?
He stared intently at the stranger and seemed to be pleading for something else.
Why do you think that, lad? Emily asked, keeping her hand on his head.
Because Im always sniffling and I get sick a lot, he replied. I have a little sister, Ellie, in the baby group. Every day I run to her and stroke her hair so she remembers she has an older brother. My names Tommy, and without Ellie I cant go anywhere.
At that moment a run of snot slipped from his nose, evidence of his frequent colds.
In that instant Emily realized she had spent her whole life waiting for a child like Tommy a sniffling, often ill boy with a sister she had never met but already loved. She understood that love does not wait for perfect timing; it arrives in unexpected packages, and the heart that is ready to give will find its home in the most unlikely of places. The lesson was clear: the warmth we keep inside is meant to be shared, and when we open ourselves to those who need it most, we discover the true meaning of family.
