Happiness for Natalie
Natalie had been planning this for a long timeto adopt a child from an orphanage. After six years of marriage, her husband had left her for someone younger and more successful, and she had no children of her own. The strain of family life had left her exhausted, with neither the strength nor the desire to try again, to find someone who would stand by her “for better, for worse.” No, she was done. That was her decision. If she were to pour her love and warmth into anyone, it wouldnt be a partnerit would be someone who truly needed it.
So she began the process. She spoke with social services, gathered the necessary paperwork, and nowthe most important partfinding the right boy to become her son, her legacy, and to give him all the love she had saved over her 38 years.
She didnt want a baby; she feared she wouldnt manage, having passed the age where women yearn, often without realizing it, for sleepless nights, swaddling, and cooing. Instead, she went to the orphanage to find a little boy, three to five years old, who would become hers.
As the tram rattled along, she fidgeted nervously, as if heading to a first date, barely noticing the true arrival of spring outsideyoung, silken, with a crisp chill and impossibly bright sunshine. The tram creaked on its turns, but Natalie only thought of the child who already existed somewhere, unaware that fate had chosen him for her.
Through the tram window, the city lived its springtime lifecars humming, people hurryingnone of them knowing Natalie was on her way to meet her own happiness. She turned away from her fellow passengers, staring out the glass but seeing nothing, already smiling at the son she would meet in just a few minutes.
Her stop came: “Orphanage.” The next one was “Kindergarten.”
She stepped out and saw the old mansion with its peeling columns, their once-white plaster now patchy, as if camouflaged. Inside, the guard directed her to the matrons office.
The matron was an elderly woman in a hand-knitted, stretched-out cardigan, worn with age. She had a provincial air, unkempt but with sharp eyes that revealed she had been in her role for years. Their conversation was briefthey had already spoken the day before.
“Shall we go and choose, then?” the matron said, rising from her chair.
Natalie followed obediently. As they walked down a long corridor with dark-blue painted panels, the matron spoke over her shoulder:
“The younger group is in the playroom. Thats where well go.” She pushed open the door, and they stepped inside.
About fifteen children, boys and girls, played on a carpeted floor or rummaged through toy chests. A teacher sat at a small table by the window, occasionally glancing up to oversee them.
The moment the adults entered, the children rushed forward, swarming around them, clinging to their knees, tilting their faces up like eager chicks, shouting over each other:
“Youre here for me! Take me!”
“No, shes my mum! I dreamed about her last night!”
“Pick me! Im your daughter!”
The matron absently patted their heads, murmuring quick descriptions to Natalie, who felt overwhelmedbecause she wanted to take them all.
All of themincluding the boy who still sat on a chair by the window, watching the familiar scene without joining.
For some reason, Natalie walked toward him. She placed a hand on his head.
From beneath her palm, slightly slanted eyesan uncertain colorpeered up at her, matching his high cheekbones, broad nose, and faint, nearly invisible eyebrows. He looked nothing like the child she had imagined. As if confirming her thought that he was “all wrong,” the boy said:
“You wont pick me anyway.”
Yet his gaze clung to her, pleading silently.
“Why do you think that, sweetheart?” Natalie asked, keeping her hand on his head.
“Because Im always sniffling and sick. And Ive got a little sister, Nellie. Shes in the baby group. I go see her every day and pat her head so she doesnt forget shes got a big brother. My names Billy, and I wont go anywhere without Nellie.”
Then, as if from tension, his nose began to run.
And in that moment, Natalie understoodshe had been waiting her whole life for a sniffling, sickly little boy named Billy and his sister Nellie, whom she hadnt even met yet but already loved.
Sometimes, happiness doesnt look the way we expectit finds us in the most unexpected places, with the most unexpected people. And thats what makes it real.
