When I was little, just old enough to understand the world, my grandmother told me that my parents had no other choice but to abandon me.
She asked me not to blame them.
That year, I went to "my home" for the first time.
I carried a few eggs my grandmother had saved up for me and made my way there.
The walk should have taken no more than half an hour, but I dragged it out to an hour.
I was too afraid that the eggs might crack in the bag.
My grandmother didn't have much money. Those eggs were the only thing of value she could give me.
"Michelle, when you visit your parents, you must be polite. Do you understand? You are the sweetest girl," my grandmother said, stroking my hair and holding me in her arms.
She was an old-fashioned woman and wished that I could still maintain a good relationship with my parents, although I was abandoned by them.
"Just think of them as distant relatives you visit occasionally," she said.
In her eyes, having more relatives was always better, which meant that I would have more people to rely on in a hard time."
When I finally reached the door of "my home," I hesitated.
Then I stood on tiptoes and knocked at the door.
The door opened, and my father stood there.
He glanced at me but said nothing.
My grandmother's words echoed in my mind.
"Dad..." I was the first to speak.
"Come in," he said flatly, and he sounded emotionless.
I followed him cautiously into the room.
He looked down at my mud-streaked canvas shoes and said, "Take off your shoes before stepping inside."
I stepped inside barefoot.
It was cold in winter. My feet were red because of the low temperature.
I saw a little boy playing with a ball on the floor in the room. My mother sat nearby and played together with him.
"Mom, these eggs... Grandma asked me to bring them for you," I said while taking the eggs out from behind my back happily.
"Just leave them there," she replied, glancing briefly at the table.
I quickly understood what she meant and put the eggs on the table.
There were two leftovers there, some chicken and a bit of green vegetables.
I swallowed hard and touched my empty stomach. I had left early that morning, after eating only a hard, dry cornbread bun before setting out.
I stood there, like an idiot.
The atmosphere was awkward. Although we are a family, the atmosphere felt cold.
It was clear that I wasn't welcome.
The only sound in the room was my little brother playing with his toy car. The wheels squeaked as he pushed it along the floor.
I stood there, feeling out of place. No one offered me a seat or a drink. My eyes wandered around the room.
I had once overheard bits and pieces of gossip from my grandmother's neighbors. They said my parents used to run a business.
Even after they went bankrupt, they were still better off than most.
The room was clean and bright, with sunlight streaming through the windows.
There was a television in the living room, and the wooden furniture was polished and tidy.
It was the New Year, and my little brother was dressed in a red padded jacket and matching red shoes.
He even wore a traditional hat embroidered with a tiger's face. He looked adorable.
I crouched down to play with him for a moment.
My mother saw this and walked into another room to busy herself with something.
I couldn't help but think how wonderful it would be if my grandmother and I could live in such a family.
But of course, they didn't even want me. How could they possibly accept my grandmother?
I kept my grandmother's words in my mind. "They must have had no other choice but to give up on you."
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