I'm going on a plane,
To Lviv Ukraine,
To where my life began,
To where I was forgotten,
To where I was picked up,
I'm going back not for a need to understand where I came from,
But to where it all ended,
To the place that I left behind,
To leave a gift,
For the gifted,
To cement the decision of my parents,
To understand what they saw in me,
To take me half across the world,
To take me home,
So as I stand in front of the door to the place where children shared nothing,
Let alone have anything to share,
I knock on the door and an old lady answrs,
A nun,
I try to speak to her in my deplorable Ukrainian,
But I stop and hand her a letter,
I turn and leave,
I'll know that she would be able to read it,
Because I had my dad write what I had wanted to say to her in Ukrainian,
I left her the address of the hotel I'm staying in,
A day later there's a knock at the door,
The nun walks in ,
I have difficulty understanding her,
But I record what she says to me,
After an hour she finishes talking and gets up to leave,
I ask her to stop,
I walk towards her and say,
Thank you in Ukrainian,
She starts tearing up as she heads out the door.
It turns out she was there 17 years ago when my brother and I were adopted.
