They found her one spring morning on the verandah… a cute little bundle of joy, silently sleeping in a pram, her fingers curled into a tight ball. She was dressed in a blue frock, matching booties and pointed hat. A note was inside.
“She wasn’t safe with us. We know she’ll be safe with you. Take care of her.”
They were delighted. The doctors had told them to adopt, that they couldn’t have a child of their own. So the little girl was almost like a godsend. There were legalities to take care of, but they had a way around that. They clung to the girl, and with a smile, named her Varna.
She grew up with them. By the time they knew she was legally their adopted daughter, they had moved to a different part of the city. She called them mummy and papa, and ran around the verandah, giggling happily. No one who saw them said otherwise… they were a family.
It was a rainy day when they saw a moving van outside their gate and the men moving the furniture into the opposite house. They went to welcome their new neighbors, Varna in her mother’s arms.
Their neighbors smiled seeing them at the gate. A handsome baby boy waved at them from his father’s arms. They told they’d go over once the moving was done. Their neighbors welcomed them. When the moving van left, both families were standing in their verandahs.
For one, Varna was the girl who had given them new life.
For the other, Varna was their baby girl who had lived.
(© 25th April 2015)