Forgiven

I stood motionless and looked at the solid, dark brown wooden door. The house was painted white, and black on the wooden beams and window panes. It looked huge and expensive from the outside. I had to make my mind up whether to knock or press the bell. I turned to face the garden. I thought about going back to my car and drove home. Home. That was where I wanted to be; or was it where I would be after I knocked the door? I sighed and walked to the side where there was a wooden bench by the beautiful garden. I could see that the woman in the family loved the garden. The smell of white lilies reminded me of the florist down the road on Sixteenth Street. I sat on the sturdy looking wooden bench, trying to figure out what I would say if someone was to open the door. I wished I did not find out where she was so that I would not have three sleepless nights thinking of why she left me, whether she was looking for me or whether I should be angry.

I was abandoned at Bliss Home when I was barely four. They said they found me playing joyfully in the playground, innocently thinking that I was sent to school. After three years, I found out that my mother left me at the orphanage because she had to go and find my father who left us when I was two. I was devastated, knowing that my mother left me to strangers. Funny, I thought, how manipulative and contradictory adults could be when it comes to giving advice. Those at Bliss Home took good care of me and made me realise that I was still lucky to be able to enjoy life. Sister Lisa was one of those who managed to make me see that I should make the most of myself than being miserable, grieving my unfortunate life; thinking nobody loved me. I stayed there till I was 12, when I was then transferred to Rouston Public School. Well, Sister Lisa thought it was a good school. Spurred by Sister Lisa’s determination to give me