**Happiness for Emily**
Ive been meaning to do this for a long timeadopt a child from an orphanage. After six years of marriage, my husband left me for someone younger, more successful. I felt broken, as if Id given all I had to family life and had nothing leftno strength, no desire to try again with someone new, to find that person whod stand by me “for better or worse.” No, enough was enough. Thats what I decided. If I was going to pour my heart into anyone, it wouldnt be a partneritd be someone who truly needed warmth.
So there it was. I took action. I sorted the paperwork with social services, gathered all the necessary documents. Now, the most important part: finding the right boy, one whod become my son, my legacy, the one I could give all the love Id stored up over my 38 years.
I didnt want a babytoo afraid I wouldnt manage the sleepless nights, the nappies, the lullabies. That ship had sailed. So I went to the orphanage looking for a child between three and five, someone whod feel like mine from the start.
On the bus ride there, I was as nervous as if it were a first date, too wrapped up in my thoughts to notice spring had properly arrivedyoung, silken, with a crisp chill and impossibly bright sunlight.
The bus groaned around corners while I fretted over the child I hadnt met yet, one who already existed but had no idea fate had tied him to me.
Outside, the city hummed with life: cars gleaming in the sun, people rushing about. None of them knew Emily was on her way to meet her own happiness. I turned away from the other passengers, staring blankly out the window, not really seeing anything because I was already smiling at the boy Id meet in minutes.
Then my stopright in front of the orphanage. The next one was “Nursery School,” but I stepped off here.
The building was an old Victorian manor, its once-grand columns now cracked, the plaster flaking away like bad camouflage. I walked in, explained myself to the security guard, who pointed me to the matrons office.
Inside, I introduced myself to a woman well past middle age, her cardigan pilled and stretched, her hair loosely pinned. She looked provincial, a bit untidy, but her eyes told me she belonged herehad done for years. We spoke brieflywed already talked on the phone.
“Right then, shall we go and meet them?” she said, standing first.
I followed her down a long corridor with dark blue panelled walls. “The younger ones are in the playroom,” she said over her shoulder, pushing open a door.
About fifteen childrenboys and girlswere scattered across a carpeted floor, some at the toy cupboards. A carer sat by the window, writing notes, glancing up now and then to keep order.
The moment we entered, the children swarmed us, clinging to our legs, craning their necks up like hungry sparrows, all shouting at once:
“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 notes about each child. I stood frozen, thinkingI should take *all* of them.
All of them.
Including the boy by the window, the one who hadnt moved from his chair, only turning to watch the usual spectacle of hopeful visitors.
For some reason, I walked straight to him. Put my hand on his head.
Beneath my palm, his eyes were small, slightly slanteda warm, uncertain colour, matching his round cheeks, broad nose, and pale, faint eyebrows. He wasnt anything like the boy Id imagined. As if reading my thoughts, he said:
“You wont pick me anyway.”
But his gaze was desperate, pleading for the opposite.
“Why do you say that, love?” I asked, leaving my hand where it was.
“Cause Im always snotty. And I get sick a lot. And Ive got a sisterEllie. Shes in the baby group. I go see her every day, pat her head so she remembers shes got a big brother. My names Tommy, and Im not going anywhere without Ellie.”
Then, as if to prove his point, his nose started running.
And thats when I knewId been waiting my whole life for a snotty-nosed boy named Tommy, who got sick too often, and his little sister Ellie, whom I hadnt even met yet but already loved.
**Lesson learned:** Sometimes, the family youre meant to have isnt the one you imagineits the one that finds you when youre not even looking.
