I never imagined seeing him again. Not after all these years. Not after he disappeared without a trace and saved my life that night in the snowfall. However, there he was, sitting in the metro station, waiting for change with his hands. Now it was the man who had saved me who needed to be saved.
I was reminded of that day. Of my small, icy fingers, of the icy cold, and of the warmth of his rough hands leading me to safety.
A little girl in the woods | Source: Midjourney
I had been wondering for years about his identity, where he had disappeared to, and whether he was still alive.
And here he was right in front of me once more, thanks to fate. Could I, however, really help him the way he helped me?
Although I don’t remember much about my parents, I do recognize their faces.
I can vividly recall the power in my father’s arms and the love in my mother’s smile. I also recall the night that everything changed.
The night I found out they were leaving.
An image of a girl beside a window | Midjourney
They passed away in a vehicle accident when I was just five years old, and I didn’t even completely comprehend what death meant at the time. For days, I stood by the window, certain that they would enter at any second. However, they never did. I soon found myself in the foster system.
I never felt like I belonged anywhere as I moved between shelters, group homes, and temporary families. A few foster parents were blatantly harsh, while others were benevolent. But one thing never changed, regardless of where I ended up.
I was by myself.
My only means of escape at the time was school.
Determined to create a future for myself, I lost myself in my literature. I overcame my loneliness and uncertainty by working harder than everyone else. And it was successful. After receiving a college grant, I persevered through medical school and became a surgeon.
I have the life I battled for at the age of 38. I do life-saving procedures in the hospital for long hours, hardly pausing to catch my breath. I enjoy it, but it’s exhausting.
On some evenings, I imagine how delighted my parents would be as I stroll around my modern apartment. Now that I’m standing in an operating room, changing things, I wish they could see me. However, there is one childhood memory that I will always cherish.
I was lost in the woods when I was eight years old. It was one of those awful snowstorms that blinds you and makes everything appear the same. I had ventured too far from my lodging at the shelter.
And I was all alone before I realized it.