Hoping

April 29, 2018
By Anonymous

As I laid there, helplessly crying and hoping this was all a mistake. Hoping that the address I was led to was wrong. Hoping that I would wake up from this sick reality I like to call a dream, and find that everything was perfect. That I found what I long wished for. That this wasn’t the end to my story. That somehow this would turn into a fairytale, where I get a happy ending and live happily ever after. Hoping.
2 days ago
I live in a small and quiet town in a city called ‘Little Falls,” New Jersey. What I love about this town is that everyone knows each other. We are all one big happy family. It is my favorite time of the year; autumn. Where the leaves change color into crisp red, pumpkin orange, crème yellow, and the perfect shade of light brown. The leaves that are effortlessly falling onto the ground or on the verge of falling into piles that scream out “November.” And it’s not long before thanksgiving comes around, either. I was playing hide-and-seek with my little brothers, as they were constantly nagging me about how I “don’t play with them or spend time with them.” Me, being the intellectual and older one, knew the best hiding spot where their little eyes wouldn’t wander to, so I went to the attic. It was very dark in here, and again, me being the smart one forgot to bring my phone. “Great” I mumbled to myself. I was trying so hard not to scream because I know I felt something crawling on my hand and as I was swatting what I thought was a spider, I tripped over a big box. Labeled as “Lucy Waters things” it got me curious. “that’s my last name,” I wondered to myself and without thinking I started to look inside to see what treasures are awaiting. Call me weird, but I strongly felt a pull or some type of force drawing me closer. Like it had answers to things I was unknown of, until now. With all this curiosity, I forgot that I was playing a game and quickly took the box to my room. There were cassettes of this very beautiful girl, who was looking oddly familiar to me, singing with an angelic-like voice, and there was a man and they looked so happy together. Tears started to run down my face, they looked like the perfect family, the parents madly in love with each other and to top it off, they gave birth to a beautiful blessing.
This got me thinking more than I already do. The parents, especially the mom, looks recognizable and their baby looks, call me crazy, like the baby pictures I have of me. And she has the same last name as me. I went downstairs to ask my mom about the videos and pictures. I knew something was up, her eyes were immediately going big and full of tears, and stood quiet for what felt like eternity. She, then,  finally had the courage to tell me the truth. After 18 years of my life, I have never felt more clueless and left out. I have never felt blind, not knowing the signs that was reoccurring. I have brunette hair with hazel eyes. My mom and little brothers have blackish-brown hair with dark brown eyes, except it would be a caramel color when looking up to the sun. I don’t know if this was one of those tell-tale signs but I was passionate about singing and my birth mother obviously was one too. I blanked out reminiscing about those so called signs I kept missing, so I hadn’t realized to snap back into reality. The harsh reality. I didn’t want to be those typical girls or boys that get angry at their adoptive mother, scream, cry, or run away asking why they took so long to tell me. Then hear the same old sob story, “I didn’t want to lose you” or “I didn’t think you were ready.” I understand why she did what she did, after all she was the one who took care of me my entire life. My little brothers came in and asked if we watched the Titanic again, seeing that my mom and I both were crying. If they only knew.

I couldn’t sleep. All my mind was going to was the fact that my life wasn’t so perfect as people say. I wanted to do one thing before I go on with my life. I wanted to find my parents. No, not to yell at them for leaving me or have a discussion as to what made them leave or to be a family, for that matter. I didn’t need any of it, I already have a loving family. That’s all I needed. What I wanted was just to find them, so I could get closure and not feel like a part of me is missing. I did some research to try and pinpoint where my parents would be. I was googling their name and any connections to me, hoping something useful will pop up. After long and tiring hours I finally found an address. As I was so consumed and eager to find out about my parents, I was literally leaving the door without telling my mom. My little brothers pop out of nowhere and was peculiarly sad.  My mom talks too much. I assured them I was coming back because they are my family and that nothing was going to change my mind. That reassurance was also for me, because who knows what I might come across to.

I followed the address all the way through, past the little ice cream shop, right turn at the rose pink flowers, through the scenic waterfall bridge and I noticed something abnormal. The GPS led me to a cemetery. “This can’t be right” I whispered to myself. “Here lies Mr. and Mrs. Water: A loving and caring family.” Fast-forward a little to the present and here I am uncontrollably crying. Wondering why it took me years to find out about them. Wondering why no one has ever told me that I resemble my parents. As my eyes were forming waterfalls and my vison was blurry, I noticed fresh flowers on top of the grave. Who else knew about my parents



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