"When my wife Maria and I at long last received the call that the legal process was over, we returned to Russia to pick up our new sons, only to discover that their transition from orphanage to family was more difficult than we had supposed. We dressed the boys in outfits our parents had bought for them. We nodded our thanks to the orphanage personnel and walked out into the sunlight, to the terror of the two boys. They’d never seen the sun, and they’d never felt the wind. They had never heard the sound of a car door slamming or had the sensation of being carried along at 60 miles an hour down a road. I noticed that they were shaking, and reaching back to the orphanage in the distance. I whispered to Sergei, now Timothy, “That place is a pit! If only you knew what’s waiting for you: a home with a Mommy and a Daddy who love you, grand parents and great-grand parents and cousins and playmates and McDonald’s Happy Meals!”
But all they knew was the orphanage.
It was filthy, gloomy, and devoid of hope, but they had no other reference point.
It was home.