When he walked away, he took the remnants of my hopes with him. But he couldn’t take my ability to care for another. That remained within me.
Eventually, that love needed a destination.
I didn’t wake up with a sudden epiphany. The realization was gradual. It began with me helping out during the library’s toddler reading hour, then moving on to preparing food kits for the local shelter. I convinced myself I was merely staying occupied, but one day, while holding a small jacket a child had forgotten, I realized I didn’t want to put it down.
But he couldn’t take my ability to care for another. That remained within me.
That was the exact instant I understood my path.
I submitted the application just a week later. The certification sessions were long. The background investigations were thorough; but when that thick, hopeful folder finally arrived in my mailbox, I pressed it against my chest as if it were a living thing.
“All that’s left is the waiting,” I whispered to my reflection. “Your child is on their way, Sylvie.”
So, when the agency reached out to ask if I would take in the boy that everyone else had overlooked, I gave my answer instantly.
“Your child is on their way, Sylvie.”
Young Alan showed up with nothing but a single backpack and a gaze that seemed to search for something unseen. He didn’t shed a tear or jump at sudden noises. He simply hovered at the entrance, scanning the room as if he were memorizing every possible way out.
