The mystery of a January Day - stories from my childhood

It was a scintillating, vibrant winter day. Mom said that I do not have to go to school.

We would have been visiting her friend who got a baby girl. I remember that day clearly and in many details.

We were baking cookies; I was allowed to help. I had my own corner in the kitchen with my small rolling pin.

As I was cutting the cookies, I would watch the jellies in the plates near the windows.

It reminded me of a story of my big brother. He used to be afraid from the wobbling jelly when he was a toddler.

I smiled.

Afterwards, we left for auntie Lizi who was the best friend of my mom at that time.

The night before they arrived at our home, when I was already in bed, they said "We got the baby!"

It sounded as if everybody was very cheerful. Eventually, my father entered my bedroom to tell me about the good news; I was not in a cheerful mood. I was screaming " Leave me alone! " My father did not listen to me. He lifted me from my bed and wanted to carry me to the other room so I can have a look at the newcomer, but I was in a tantrum and was kicking my father all over. He was forced to put me back in bed. I spoiled the evening. Nobody understood why I was behaving like that; I could not understand myself either.

The baby was lovely: smiling with big brown eyes. It was a nice visit. My mom and her friends were talking about how difficult it was to get her out of the hospital. I apologized for my behavior the night before.  The apology was accepted.

This baby girl brought much cheer into her own parents and our life. My baby brother and this newcomer were growing together. Nearly every day we met and they became good friends. They got on very well with each other. "No wonder," the moms would often say  "they were born on the same day!"



My brother was born in the summer. Something did not add up. But there were so many things like that in life. I did not care much about this small issue.

Then we moved to another part of the country, and we grew up not seeing each other for a long time.

After twenty years, something surprising happened. We were reunited for a  Sunday lunch. Auntie Lizi was crying while telling her daughter's story to my mom.

"She was always a lovely, obedient child. Then when she was 18 she left us suddenly."

 Her daughter was very disappointed when she had to learn from the neighbors that she was an adopted child. Her parents wanted to keep it secret.

Only then I understood many things about that January night. The baby was already a half year old. Just like my brother. And auntie Lizi did not have a big tummy before the baby. Because of the bureaucracy, it was very difficult to get the baby they chose.

It was then I understood many things about that January day.

And the story we heard at lunch was not  uplifting.

The secrecy of her adoption made her feel inferior. Terribly. She grew into a beautiful and smart young lady, but she would not go to college. There were lots of decent men of their circles who wanted to marry her, but she had a strong feeling of being less than them. She is an adopted one. She married a worker from the factory.

God knows how many times she was told by her peers "You are an adopted child!" How long she was carrying the burden of this secrecy! How many times she tried to ask her parents about it! But she was never brave enough until she became 18.

Keeping an adoption secret is a terrible mistake! I  saw with my  own eyes how  it   kept a lovely young person from living her life up to full potential .