She stood up swiftly and worked her way up to the front of the room, away from the windows. She was wearing her usual uniform; a dress with long sleeves, flat ballet shoes and a piece of cloth covering her mouth. She had a long scarf enveloping most of her hair, but she let a few blond pieces rest on her forehead to frame her face. Merie was a lot older than us, and she was here for us every day, like all the other Big Sisters of the Orphanage.

Everyone above the age of twelve was working the different jobs this place was offering. Some became Sisters themselves when old enough. It seemed that when the boys became adults, they had a much easier time getting out of the Orphanage, and so I had never had a big brother as the Sisters were. It was common for ladies barely older than most of us, forever strangers, to show up one day and become the people we had to look up to. New faces came and went with the season, while the older Big Sisters almost entirely originated from the Orphanage itself.

I didn’t remember my real parents, and I never had to. Merie had been by my side for as long as I knew; she was a Big Sister as much as she was a mother to me. She was always soft spoken, kind and careful of our needs. She and the others took care of the babies that were left at the door by parents that had no other choice or solution. As we orphans grew up, they raised us until we would either walk out the front door with a new family or, when we would be of age, enter society. Every year or so, someone decided to stay and become a Big Sister, they were sent away for a month or two, and came back with a uniform covering their smile. I took off my pants and my long tee to put on the pj’s I was given for tonight.

I had worked at least one day in all jobs here, as it was mandatory for all orphans. Everyday Merie and a few other Sisters were working the gardens and keeping the bushes and plants that Mother liked so much. It was hard work, but it was outside in the sun, with fresh air. The kitchen was always hot and busy, selling breads and pies to bring money to the Orphanage, and Mother. The seamstresses knitted and fashioned clothes for everyone here and sold handmade household items to whoever needed it. All of those who were strong and brave could work the small patch of forest we had access to. I had only faint memories of it as I’d always been rather small and weak. From what I remembered, it was hard and ungrateful work and many would work outside a few hours at a time only, switching then to delivering the firewood from the two trucks owned by the Orphanage.

I pulled the old, overstretched shirt over my head and looked around. Most of the other kids were in bed already, either chatting with each other or lying quietly. The bell rang once for a few seconds and the chatter quieted down slowly. In a blink, the light turned off and the room was plunged into obscurity. I backed into my bed and felt the cold sheets beneath my fingers. I could feel my stomach twist in a cry before I let out a long sigh. Tonight’s goulash hadn’t been sitting well with me, but there would be many hours before I could eat something else.

Without making any big movement, I searched the room for Merie but I couldn’t find her figure in the darkness. I hid under the covers, waiting for the silence of the night to take me away.

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Tomorrow was Friday. We had a couple of birthdays this weekend, on top of that one of the Big Sisters wanted a small party before leaving. She was going to build her own family far away from us. When the orphanage was this busy, we were all mobilized to cook, bake, clean, and decorate the halls and the Sejournerie. There, we would have a meal, celebrate and play until the last bell of the day.

Usually, when we reached the age of twelve, some of us would try to be put on the List, and hoped to be adopted by a family somewhere far, far away. They’d get a new name probably, and move to a beautiful home, with a dog and a comfy bed. They would leave and never come back, just to have parents and siblings -real siblings. Those kids would still work for Mother before being taken, but not as much as the others. Mainly, they would start to learn things with Mother’s help, and when a couple would come to pick them up, we would never hear from them again.

I didn’t want to go to school, and I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to do something and not spend my time trying to read a book I didn’t understand. From what I heard, the ones that chose to be adopted had to speak properly and know how to write, and I didn’t know how to do that. All I wanted was to spend some time with the kids like me, the ones that loved this place and didn’t want to go. I had friends here, I had Merie.

After taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes as tight as I could, burying my head deep into the scratchy pillow. If Merie one day fell in love with some guy, she would most likely pick some of us to come with her, and maybe she would take me too. She’d pick Lukka and me, maybe Cecil too. We’d be a family.

I didn’t know what my first memory was from this place. I remembered growing up with the others next to the glass door, where the sun was hitting our backs, but beyond that it was all blurry and messy. I didn’t know anyone else than Mother and Merie, I didn’t really bond with the other Sisters. Sometimes it was very lonely, waiting for hours to see her again, after her chores.

We were a melting pot of faces and personalities; it was usual to only get along with some and form closer ties with others. I had a few friends, but it wasn’t uncommon for me to spend the entire day only saying a word or two when we were apart.

The only warmth that I had ever felt was when I was with the others in the big playing room next to the gardens: the Sejournerie. There, we had comfy seats, covered with blankets probably as old as Mother herself. They were cozy and it was custom to wrap ourselves in them, sometimes using a big one for two, and spend the bi-monthly movie night in another world.

The tropical sun cooking us inside the Sejournerie while we prepared bows with leftover ribbons, were my favorite memories. All the colors of the satin were shining and reflecting the sun in our eyes, with laughter and the summer sun. It was imperfect and sometimes suffocating but I cherished those moments.

I was looking forward to baking my own cake in a few weeks, and eventually being smothered by everyone with love and smiles. Even if I was older than the little ones, the screams of joy were important to me and I wouldn’t have traded any of it. It was the safety of the soft and calescent life in the Orphanage that I loved.