The white door stood tightly shut right there blankly in front of me. My heart raced faster than the winning horse at the Kentucky Derby. I tried to lift my hand to give the first knock, but it wouldn’t budge. My mind spinning in circles as if I just stumbled off a roller coaster. Maybe she went out today, maybe I’ll just leave….No I can’t I’ve waited too long for this; this is it - my only chance.
Knock.
I did it. I did it? I did it! I gathered the courage, surpassing my fear, and gave the door a slight tap. The wait seemed like an eternity though. But finally, I heard the footsteps coming closer and closer to the door. I wanted to run, get away and leave as if I never even went.
The footsteps stopped. My heart seemed as if it were about to pound right out of my chest. It was the only thing I could hear; my breath nonexistent.

Thump thump… thump thump…thump thump thump thump thump…
The door swung open and we both just stared in complete shock. It seemed as if I suddenly just looked into a mirror. Her strawberry blonde hair, long and wavy, lay perfectly against her shoulders just as mine did. I gazed into her emerald green eyes and saw just the same as she stared right back.
“Um hi…” I gasped, struggling to get out the words, “I’m your daughter.”
She just stared back at me without a word, without a flinch. The tension broke me. All my questions just came flooding out at once, I couldn’t stop.
“Why’d you give me up?”
Silence.
“Was it me?”
Silence.
“Was it you?”
Silence.

“Who’s my dad? Where is he?”
Silence.
“Did you even want to have me at all in the first place?”
Silence.
…”Was I an accident?” I finally blurted out.
She just stared at me like a deer in headlights, “I’m sorry I just don’t have time for this.” The only words I ever heard my real mother say to me.
I just stood there and watched the door slam right in front of me, like a slap in the face and a jab straight to the heart. I couldn’t move; it felt as though something had me strapped down. It seemed like hours as I just stood there in disbelief thinking the door would open again, and she’d come running out with an apology. Yet nothing, the still air of the chill fall day pounded in the rejection as I waited for something else to happen. After sixteen years of not knowing…and this is how it all ends?

“She hates me…” I gasped out to myself with such disappointment. I could feel the tension build up in my throat and in my eyes as I tried not to let out the tears. I finally gathered up the courage to step away and accepted the fact that she had no intentions to come back. My steps, filled with pure heartbreak, trudged along down her front yard, passed the white picket fence. The straight rejection hit me once again, yet this time I was old enough to actually know and feel the pain. The long walk back to where I could find a cab back to the train station felt like the longest walk in my life. Only one question left still running through my head, “Why?” I knew I’d never get the real answer to this question though and just had to face the reality that she blessed me with life, but also with a loving family that I know I can always count on to be here for me. My life, I realized, has been better off. I see now why my parents never told me and that I had no reason to go find my biological mother. I already have a mother and a true family that will forever love me for who I am unconditionally.
I knew I had to tell them I knew though. It had to all be thrown out onto the table. That night specifically.

I sat there on one side of the table that night during dinner contemplating how to tell them - my real family. I sat there looking across to my brother and sister sitting next to each other. My mom and dad looked ever so content sharing how their days at work went, there at each end of our dining room table that we’ve shared every meal with each other for as long as I can remember.

“Can you pass me the green beans please honey?” my dad asked me.

My hand trembled as I passed over the bowl.
“I’m adopted…” I stammered out.

Stopping mid-bite my mom just stared at me. Fork still in hand, not one budge. It was as if I had just told her we lost someone in the family. I scanned the room, struck full of silence. My brother and sister just sat there staring at me with their mouths wide open like I was some kind of alien. Finally my dad set down the bowl, glanced at my mom, and back at me.

“How did you find out?” he muttered out in disbelief.

“I saw her today,” I responded back not answering his question. “She hates me.”

My mother sprang out of her chair, and gathered me in her arms. “We’re so sorry honey; we didn’t want you to find out like this. We didn’t want you to get hurt.”
At this point I had a waterfall rushing down my face. I couldn’t keep it all back anymore it just poured out of me. “She hates me, Mom.”
She rocked me back and forth like she used to when I was a kid; I didn’t want to let go. She was it, she was my real mother. Maybe not biologically but as my mother who loved me my whole life as her own and never left my side.
“Sweetie, I love you. Don’t you ever forget that.” she said comforting me.
My dad slowly walked over, “We just wanted to protect you from this; we didn’t want you to get hurt. We didn’t want to lie to you, but we didn’t want you to feel different.”
I looked up to him to tell him I understood; standing up I gave him a hug, “I love you Dad. I love you both more than anyone.” I turned and wrapped myself in my mom’s arms again and cherished her warm love. “Thank you,” I whispered to her. “I love you Mom.”
That night I laid in bed thinking about my life all together. I realized that yes even though my biological mother gave me up, she gave me the blessing of having my true family by my side every second of my life. Simply grateful that I had answers that always crossed my mind about why I seemed a bit different from my family. The difference in our physical features now made sense. I understood why I didn’t follow in their footsteps as star athletes in high school like they did and my brother and sister do. Our different interests in our hobbies and past times seemed clear as to why I liked to play the clarinet and they like to go out and play ball. These differences made me, me; they made my family work. I laid there knowing that they’d always be here for me. These differences didn’t matter to me now. I knew that they are the ones who have always truly loved me and who will continue to always love me no matter what. That to me means family.