Common Experiment #3485
Francine
Fiore
I had never known my own parents. Merely left on a doorstep in front of an orphanage when I was a small girl. I had always had high hopes that I would get adopted, but the orphanage owner made it clear that little boys and girls like me-- well, we weren't the ones that parents wanted. As the years went by I busied myself with the house work, helping the owner take care of the other children and learning how to fend for myself. I figured, if I couldn't get my own set of parents, I would at least try to be parents to the others while they were in our care.
Puberty hit me harder than most, and I went through a phase of believing that I was never good enough. No matter how much the other kids looked up to me and loved me, I would still wish upon the stars that one day I would be a little girl to someone special. My rebellious phase passed by without much of an incident, except for increased bouts of depression and lack of motivation to do much of anything.
One day when I was 14, the orphanage owner Mr. Sal, came to me with some very grave news. He was getting older, and was diagnosed with Alzheimers. I was devastated at the news, for he was the closest person I had ever known as a real parent. He loved me like he would a daughter, and had always sympathized with my want of a real family. It was from that day forward that I decided I didn't need a "real" family to be happy. I just wanted to be there for Mr. Sal as long as I could and make his final years as worry free as possible.
Mr. Sal passed away ten years later. When he was at his worst, he couldn't remember what year it was, or even who I was. His death had been bittersweet. I was glad he wasn't suffering anymore, but the one semblance of family I had was gone forever.
A week later, I was sitting in his lawyers office while he went over Mr. Sal's Last Will and Testament. My fate was in the hands of this tiny document, and I held my breath as it was read out loud. Everything. Mr. Sal had left me everything he had ever owned, and expected me to carry on his life's work.
It has been over twenty years since I took over the Sal Memorial Orphanage, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. My family may be unconventional, but it is mine, and if you're looking for a little one to call your own, I'll be more than happy to help you.
