The next day, before the sun rose well, I heard the car wheels stopping in front of the gate. I stepped out, wiping my hands on my apron. Aliona was slowly descending, her head down, followed by… two strangers. A woman in a beige coat and a graying man with a briefcase in hand.
— Mom… they… they are my biological parents, — Aliona said, without looking up.
I felt my legs go weak. I leaned against the door frame.
— What… what are you saying, girl? You are my daughter!
The woman stepped timidly forward.
— Mrs. Zinaida, I know it’s hard. We… searched for her for 25 years. We thought she was dead. It was a tragedy… a mistake… we were told the train hit her. But only last year did we find out that it wasn’t true. We hired a detective. That’s how we found her.
Aliona was trembling. Tears were flowing silently down her cheeks.
— I didn’t know anything, mom. I don’t want to hurt you.
I approached her and cupped her cheeks in my hands.
— You are my daughter. It’s not blood that makes you a child, but the sleepless nights, the little hands that clung to my neck, the first words, the fever, the dreams, and the bedtime stories. I am your mother.
— I know, — she said, and hugged me tightly. — You are and will always be my mother.
Her biological parents looked at us with respect. They didn’t insist. They stayed a little while, telling us about their lives, their sufferings, the unanswered questions. We looked at each other, three women connected to the same child in different ways.
After they left, Aliona remained silent all day. In the evening, she came into the kitchen where I was preparing tea.
— Mom, don’t change my name. I’m not going anywhere. But I would like to know them more, if you agree.
I nodded, with a sad smile.
— I raised a good girl. A girl who doesn’t forget what love means.
The next morning, she left a photo of the two of us on the table from graduation day. On the back, in her round handwriting, it said:
“You didn’t find me by chance. God knew I needed you.”
And maybe that’s true. God left a child in the snow, but in my heart, He forever placed the warmth of a true mother.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not assume responsibility for the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
