I am feeling the most acute pain I have ever experienced. I find myself plunged into a deep hole from which I don't know if I want to climb out. This will be the worst and the best Christmas to remember. I now regret listening behind the door to my parents' argument and at the same time I am grateful that it happened.
We are on Christmas Eve, the day went as usual for the date, my mother and my sister were preparing the dinner, while my little brother, father and I were in charge of last minute shopping, as more guests would join us for the celebration.
When we arrived home, we were busy getting the tables and chairs out of the garage to set up the covered terrace, when I noticed my father walking away with an unfriendly expression on his face.
I followed him without him noticing until he closed the door to his room, there was my mother with teary eyes waiting for him.
A call from an unknown number transformed the environment. As my mother recounted the reason for contact, I dropped to the floor along with my spirits. I had just found out that I came from a foster home, I am an adopted son.
I never doubted my origin, I even physically resemble my father, everyone corroborates it. There is no difference in my parents' treatment of my siblings and me. The three of us are the favorite children, but what happened? Why am I not with my real parents? Did they abandon me? Did they pass away?
I remembered every birthday, every start of school, every Christmas. I don't doubt the love my parents feel for me, I will never call them adoptive parents because I don't feel that way.
Now,
why would the home communicate with my parents? Afraid of being caught snooping behind the door or worse yet discovering another secret of my life, I remained silent on the outside while my insides screamed.
There was no news from my biological parents, only a legal paperwork to update motivated by a new law prompted the call. A chill entered my being, I don't want to be separated from my family, I don't want to meet anyone else to take my parents' place.
I got up from the floor and walked slowly to my room, would a cold shower help ease the pain? I don't know, but I'm trying.
I sat on my bed and set about writing this letter, it is my method of venting, I don't plan to talk about it with anyone. I will take the secret to my grave, only the one who finds this letter will know the truth of my origin.
The worst Christmas for finding out that I don't carry the same blood as my parents and siblings and the best Christmas because in spite of that, the love I have received has been unconditional.
Thank you mother and father for all the unconditional love you have given me during these 17 years. I am the luckiest young man, among so many homeless children you gave me the opportunity to grow up in a home with a perfect family. I love you immensely and would not trade you for anything or anyone.
Her son Daniel
"Love, look at the letter I just found inside the painting of the coffee lady we acquired at the garage sale" "It made me cry like it had not happened in a long time, since we saw the movie based on true events of the immigrant children in the United States and the policies assumed by the government of the day for that time."
This is my entry for the creative writing challenge # 21 STB. If you want to participate I leave you to know the details link
I made the templates in Canva with the free version. link