People sprinted. People yelled. People relaxed. The Beijing Capital International Airport was a beehive of activity. The millions of citizens and tourists who passed through the airport’s corridors daily became lost in the shops and entranced with the entertainment attractions. The smell of fried foods and exotic dishes bombard the senses. Planes were taking off and landing every few minutes. In the background, you could hear somebody speaking almost every language from around the world. The security officers probed luggage bags, and they created backups that wrapped around the giant airport. Chinese announcers updated the flight plans every few minutes, parents scurried to find their lost children, and couples rushed to be the first ones in line to the terminal gate. This is organized chaos at its finest. In the center of all of the excitement, the world flashed by for a young boy.

Two years earlier, in the middle of nowhere, the story of me began. On July 18, 1999, in a small house, miles away from any city, a young woman gave birth to a baby boy. She did not have a comfortable hospital bed, proper medical equipment, or professional doctors to help her. The young mother could have possibly had a nurse aid or her husband by her side, but she faced the world alone. Personally, I cannot remember any specific details of my very young childhood; my mother used her maternal instincts to support me. After three months, she could no longer support her child; at the time I did not have an official name.There could possibly be siblings, but no information was ever found about my biological family.  

During the dawn hours, a mysterious lady gracefully glided through the city of Baotou, Inner Mongolia, China. She wore a mask to protect her identity; she carefully avoided anything that would disturb her young child. The mother had a gentle touch, midnight-black hair, and an immeasurable amount of love for her son. Her eyes were about to explode with tears, but she had to stay strong for both herself and her son. She only had one goal in mind, abandon her son where someone would be able to find him. In the distance, an aluminum factory began its daily ritual by sorting, separating, and recycling metals. She gave her son one last kiss, and she left him forever. Hours later, factory workers stumbled upon a small basket with me inside of it. After 3 months of searching, the suburban Houyingzi Police finally gave up looking for relatives or parents.

In the midst of my world changing, I was transferred to an orphanage somewhere outside of northern China. I remember one giant central room and multiple other smaller rooms. There were numerous other children at the orphanage who all suffered the same fate as me. The orphanage was a jail for the innocent; no one could leave without permission from the government. Children of all ages grew up inside the orphanage; they had no idea that an entire world was outside of the colorful walls and a playground. Every day followed the same routine, and we were served the same food. Everything was shared between the children except for the clothes. I would have been locked away for the rest of my childhood if my adoptive parents decided to pass on me.

I carry an unsolvable mystery that can never be answered. Who are your parents and what did they do? Did you have any siblings? I have hundreds of questions about my natural family and history. Sometimes I wish I knew the answers to even the most basic questions, but there is also a part of me that does not want to know. Why did my mother not want me, or who was my father? If I found out about the truth of my family, would I be scarred mentally or emotionally? I wish I could look at pictures of my early childhood, but 2 years of my life are unrecorded. The chances of becoming adopted, especially for being a boy in China, are not favorable. Right now, I could be working on a rice farm in the middle of nowhere. Many of the dates and places in the letter were found on my Chinese birth certificate and adoption papers. This is my story of growing up; I was born with almost nothing to having everything I ever wanted.