This story is primarily written for adoptees who will find personal resonance in its themes of identity and belonging. While the general public may learn something from this story, they will find nearly all elements to be clichéd or stereotypical. Those are the entire point of the story.

As I sit here, I can't help but reflect on the childhood that shaped me into the person I am today. Growing up as the adopted middle child, I often felt like an afterthought, overshadowed by my biological siblings Barbara and James. They were the golden children, the ones who shared a bond with our parents that I could never quite replicate.

As a young boy, I would spend hours alone in my room, lost in daydreams of a life where I was loved and cherished. I would imagine myself as the center of attention, surrounded by people who adored me unconditionally. But reality always had a way of creeping back in, reminding me that I was just the adopted kid, the one who didn't quite fit in.

It wasn't until I was nine years old that my parents sat me down and told me the truth: Barbara and I were both adopted. At first, this revelation sparked a glimmer of hope within me. Perhaps, I thought, my birth mother had given me up for a better life. Maybe she was out there, thinking of me, waiting for the right moment to sweep back into my life like a heroine from a fairy tale.

And so, I began to dream of her. I would imagine us strolling through sun-drenched meadows, the warm rays of sunlight dancing across our faces as we talked and laughed together. We would have adventures, just the two of us, filled with wonder and magic. These dreams became my escape, my sanctuary from the loneliness that seemed to permeate every aspect of my life.

As I grew older, however, reality continued to intrude on these fantasies. My adoptive family remained steadfast in their favoritism towards Barbara and James, leaving me feeling more isolated and unloved than ever. The hope that my birth mother would return gradually dimmed, replaced by a deep-seated sadness that seemed to seep into every fiber of my being.

Even as a teenager, I held onto these dreams, clinging to the idea that somehow, someday, my birth mother would come back to me. I would imagine her arriving in a flurry of drama and excitement, sweeping me up in her arms and whisking me away to a life of love and laughter. But with each passing year, these fantasies began to feel more and more naive.

And then, one day, I discovered the truth. My birth mother’s name was Joan and she had passed away, just a few short years after giving me up for adoption. I finally knew her first name and it was such a beautiful name but even that did not help my sorrow. The news was devastating, leaving me reeling from the loss of something I never even had. It was as if the very fabric of my identity had been torn apart, leaving me feeling lost and alone.

I realized that the woman I had dreamed of, the one who was supposed to love me unconditionally, was gone. She had died before I was even old enough to have dreams and thoughts of her, before I could form a single memory of her love. It was sad, so sad.

As I came to terms with this new understanding of my life, I began to question everything. Who was I, really? Was I just a product of my adoptive family's pity, or was I something more? And would I ever find true belonging without the maternal love I had always longed for?

The void within me seemed bottomless, filled with an emptiness that threatened to consume me whole. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of uncertainty, searching for a lifeline that never materialized.

Despite these realizations, I continued to search for a sense of belonging and identity. I tried to find love, hoping that someone, anyone, would be able to fill the void within me. But every relationship ended in disaster, every attempt at intimacy feeling forced and unnatural. No one could ever love me like I wanted to be loved.

At seventy years old and as my days draw to a close, I am left with nothing but the bittersweet memories of a maternal affection that was always just out of reach. These dreams, which had been such a significant part of my life, now feel like a cruel joke. They had given me hope, only to dash it against the rocks of reality.

I realize now that my entire existence has been shaped by this search for love, this desperate need to be seen and cherished. And yet, despite all my efforts, I am still left with a sense of sadness and regret. The void within me remains unfilled, a constant reminder of the love that was always meant to be.

As I look back on my entire life, I am forced to confront the fact that these dreams, though beautiful in their own right, were ultimately a source of pain and longing. They had given me a sense of purpose, but also a sense of dislocation from the world around me. And now, as my time runs out, I am left to ponder the what-ifs and the maybes, wondering what might have been if only...

The story genie has granted your wish. After all the title of this story is “Not Abandoned”.

And then, one day, I received a call on my phone. It was a number I didn't recognize, but I answered it anyway.

I felt my breath catch in my throat. I would have loved if someone actually said “is this my son” but that would be impossible, I must have misheard what the stranger said.

"Yes," the woman said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm Joan, your birth mother. I've been looking for you for so long."

Tears began to well up in my eyes as I tried to process what I was hearing. My birth mother? The woman who had given me life, the woman I always dreamt about loving me? I felt a whirlwind of emotions: shock, fear, excitement, and hope.

"I've been searching for years," Joan said. "I never stopped thinking about you, wondering where you were and how you were doing. And then, a few days ago, I got a call from the adoption agency. They told me they had found you."

And just like that, a spark of hope was relit within me which quickly turned into a bonfire. This was the moment I had been waiting for all my life.

We arranged to meet at a small café, and as I walked through the door, I saw her sitting there – just like I had imagined all those years ago.

My mother was even more incredible than I could have ever dreamed. She was caring and loving, with a warmth that seemed to radiate from her very being. As we talked, she explained that she had given me up for adoption when I was just an infant, due to circumstances beyond her control. She had been poor and unwed at the time, and had hoped that I would have a better life with a family who could provide for me.

I told her about my childhood, about the loneliness and the feelings of abandonment. But as I spoke, I realized that her love and acceptance were like a balm to my wounded soul. She listened intently, nodding and wiping away tears, and when I finished, she took my hands in hers and squeezed them gently.

"Oh, sweetheart," she said. "I'm so sorry. But I want you to know that I love you more than anything in this world. And I want us to make up for lost time."

Over the next few months, my mother and I spent countless hours together. We went on walks, had picnics, and cooked meals side by side. She told me stories about my family history, about my ancestors and their traditions. And slowly but surely, I began to feel like I belonged somewhere – like I had finally found the love and acceptance I had been searching for all those years.

One day, she suggested that we take a cruise together. We would sail around the Caribbean, visiting exotic islands and soaking up the sun. I was hesitant at first, but she reassured me that it would be a chance to relax and recharge – just the two of us.

And so, we set sail on a beautiful ship, the ocean stretching out before us like an endless expanse of blue. We spent our days lounging by the pool, exploring tiny ports, and enjoying delicious meals together. Every evening, as the sun began to set, we would make our way up to the deck to watch the sunset.

On our last night on board, we stood side by side at the ship's railing, watching as the stars twinkled to life above us. The ocean was calm, with just a hint of moonlight dancing across its surface. My mom took my hand in hers, and I felt a sense of peace wash over me.

"You know, sweetheart," she said softly. "I'm so grateful that we found each other. And I want you to know that I'll never leave your side again."

As the stars continued to twinkle above us, I turned to mom and smiled. For the first time in my life, I felt truly loved and accepted – like I had finally come home.

And as we stood there together, watching the sunrise break over the horizon, I knew that our journey was just beginning. We would face challenges and uncertainties together, but with my loving mother by my side, I felt ready for anything.