Do-brey No-chey (good night!)
The Lucky One
People often say how lucky my little boy is. See, he was an orphan in Russia until I adopted him. Imagine my little boy who didn't know how to play with the simplest toys, couldn't eat with silverware, wasn't able to color a picture, and had never even seen the moon or stars. Even though he grew up in the middle of Russia he had never touched snow. He wasn't even able to talk very much. My boy had never ridden in a car, seen a horse or a cow, eaten ice cream, or been to the park. Even worse, he did not have enough to eat or adequate clothes to wear. He had spent the majority of his years cold and hungry. Not because no one cared but because there were too many to care for. He had never been held or rocked to sleep. This little boy had no mommy to wipe his tears, or pick him up when he fell down. No one was there to read him bedtime stories or hold him when he was sick or afraid. There was never even any praise for a job well done. No one put his pictures on the refrigerator and gazed at them proudly everyday. Worst of all, he had never been loved. So when people tell me that my boy is lucky, I say no, I'm the lucky one. I am the one whose mom and dad held me when I cried, and kissed and hugged me everyday. They watched me blow out my birthday candles year after year. My parents fed me and made sure I had the clothes and education that I needed.Most of all, my mom and dad loved me every minute of every hour of every day. I am the lucky one not because I got out of the orphanage, when so many never do, but because: I was never there. Certainly, I am even luckier now because this little Russian boy, who was so unlucky in life, is now
People often say how lucky my little boy is. See, he was an orphan in Russia until I adopted him. Imagine my little boy who didn't know how to play with the simplest toys, couldn't eat with silverware, wasn't able to color a picture, and had never even seen the moon or stars. Even though he grew up in the middle of Russia he had never touched snow. He wasn't even able to talk very much. My boy had never ridden in a car, seen a horse or a cow, eaten ice cream, or been to the park. Even worse, he did not have enough to eat or adequate clothes to wear. He had spent the majority of his years cold and hungry. Not because no one cared but because there were too many to care for. He had never been held or rocked to sleep. This little boy had no mommy to wipe his tears, or pick him up when he fell down. No one was there to read him bedtime stories or hold him when he was sick or afraid. There was never even any praise for a job well done. No one put his pictures on the refrigerator and gazed at them proudly everyday. Worst of all, he had never been loved. So when people tell me that my boy is lucky, I say no, I'm the lucky one. I am the one whose mom and dad held me when I cried, and kissed and hugged me everyday. They watched me blow out my birthday candles year after year. My parents fed me and made sure I had the clothes and education that I needed.Most of all, my mom and dad loved me every minute of every hour of every day. I am the lucky one not because I got out of the orphanage, when so many never do, but because: I was never there. Certainly, I am even luckier now because this little Russian boy, who was so unlucky in life, is now
my precious little boy.
