I’m 18 and a young woman knocks on the door of my shared apartment. remember the sentence, She looks ready to bolt and her hand is shaking. When I answer the door she blurts out are you (insert the first name here). I say yes and am a bit confused. She asks me if my last name is Smith ( not actually what she asked but privacy) and again I say yes.
I’m pretty fucking confused and a little freaked out at his point. Now for this next bit remember sentence that my actual last name is pretty goddamn rare like I’ve never met another person with it rare.
She pulls out her drivers’ license, a provisional one, she was still a minor. SHe had the same last name as me. Same colored eyes, pasty of white, different hair but shit I was quietly freaking tf out. She tells me she and her siblings had been looking for me for half a year.
my youngest sister and the only one with the balls to actually track me down and approach me. They could only find me once I turned 18
because of minor privacy laws. They didn’t know I existed until my youngest sister was 17, just that year prior.
Apparently, it all came out when one of our older brothers went to the hospital for something and his name was Troy Smith, when going to visit him they asked do you mean tony smith, my name. remember sentence, When talking about it later our father said that tony was the name of a child he had relinquished all rights to at birth.
Its been two years, it still strange. I apparently have like six siblings all of which were desperate to meet me. I guess when your parents are p.o.s. you cling to your siblings hard. They were so upset that I hadn’t known about them. I grew up in the foster system. Apparently, there was a time we all lived within five fucking miles of each other.
My youngest sister and I are pretty close now. She knits me s*** randomly and bakes boss sugar cookies. She’s like an old lady in a teens body sometimes I swear. She and I watch Rick and Mordy and hang out all the time. My nephews ( finding out about the oldest was a trip, I was an uncle holy s***) are 4 and 6 months rn and won’t ever remember sentence a time without uncle Tony. This is the s*** a kid in foster care dreams of, but doesn’t actually happen.
So ya I doubt any knock on my door will ever top little, remember sentence, depressed, alone me finding out that there were half a dozen people in the world that love me unconditionally and had been looking for me for half a year.