Discovering that her child was born with a disability, his mother signed a ‘refusal of acceptance’ eleven years ago. This statement was seen by Sanya himself while he was delivering personal files to the medical centre.

When Sam Ivers learned that his newborn child had been born crippled, his mother, eleven years earlier, had filled out a refusal form. Sam saw that paper himself one bleak afternoon while delivering personal files to the infirmary. The nurse handed him a stack of folders and told him to follow her, but a ring of the telephone made her dart away, waving a hand toward the infirmary as if to say, Take it yourself. She never imagined that, upon opening the file bearing his surname, Sam would read his mothers refusal.

In the orphanage, every child clings to the hope of reunion with parents, yet Sam stopped waiting. He stopped weeping, too. An iron shell settled over his heart, shielding him from the cruelty of others, from loneliness, from the sting of being unloved.

Each orphanage, like any other, has its rituals. On the eve of New Years, all the children write letters to Father Christmas. The director passes those letters to benefactors, who do what they can to grant the wishes. Some of the letters even reach the Royal Air Force squadron. Most of the children ask for the same miracle: to find their mother and father. Those who open the letters are left puzzling over what gift could possibly answer such a request.

One day, Major Chapman, an aircraft engineer, found a letter slipped into his flight log. He slipped it into his pocket, intending to read it later at home, to discuss with his wife and daughter what might be bought for the child.

That evening, as the family sat down to supper, the letter resurfaced. He unfolded it and read aloud: Dear adults, if you can, please give me a laptop. No need for toys or clothes. Everything we need is already here. With the Internet I could find friends and maybe even relatives. At the bottom was the signature: Sam Ivers, 11.

His wife, Nora, smiled. Well, children are clever these days. The Internet can indeed connect him to everyone he needs.

Their daughter, Ethel, furrowed her brow, read the letter again, and whispered, Father, he isnt really hoping to find his parents. He cant find them because they never existed. For him the laptop is a lifeline out of solitude. He writes find friends or relatives; strangers can become kin. Lets take all the money from my piggy bank, buy the laptop, and give it to him.

The New Years celebration at the orphanage went on as usual. There was a programme, then Father Christmas and his Snow Girl lit the tree, followed by sponsors handing out gifts. Occasionally, families even adopted children for holidays.

Sam, as always, expected nothing. He had learned that only the pretty girls were noticed; the boys were left unseen. He had written the letter simply because everyone else did. Yet that night he noticed a man in a pilots uniform among the guests. His heart fluttered, then he turned away, breathing quietly. A bag of sweets in his hand, the boy limped toward the exit.

Sam Ivers! a voice called, and he turned. Behind him stood the pilot, eyes soft. Sam froze, unsure what to do.

Hello, Sam, the pilot said. We received your letter and would like to give you a present. But first, lets get acquainted. Im Andrew, but you can call me Uncle Andy.

Beside him stood a striking woman. Im Aunt Nora, she said.

A small girl stepped forward, eyes bright. Im Ethel. Were the same age, you know.

And Im Sam, he replied, his voice trembling.

Ethel tried to ask something, but the pilot handed Sam a box and said, This is for you. Come with us to a room; well show you how the laptop works.

They entered an empty hall where the children usually did evening lessons. Ethel switched the laptop on, logged in, opened a browser, and signed Sam up for a British social network. Andrew hovered nearby, offering occasional hints. Sam felt the warmth, the strength, the protection radiating from them.

The girl chattered like a flock of swallows, yet Sam noticed she wasnt a whiner; she knew the laptop inside out and was active in a sports club. When they left, the woman embraced him, her perfume a fleeting caress that tickled his nose and eyes. Sam stood still for a breath, then, without turning back, walked down the corridor.

Well be back! Ethel shouted.

From that moment Sams life shifted. He no longer cared about nicknames or the glances of other children. The Internet opened a world of knowledge. He had long been fascinated by aircraft; he discovered that the first massproduced military transport in Britain was the Avro York, designed by Sir George Miles, and that the TwinEngine York was its variant.

Weekends brought Uncle Andy and Ethel. Sometimes they went to the circus, played arcade games, ate ice cream. Sam always felt shy, uncomfortable with the fact that they paid for everything.

One crisp morning, the headmasters office summoned him. He entered and saw Aunt Nora waiting, her heart beating like a nervous drum.

Sam, the headmaster said, Nora wants to give you two days off with her. If you agree, Ill sign you out.

Its Aviation Day today, the headmaster added. Uncle Andy is hosting a big celebration. Will you go?

Sam nodded eagerly, unable to form words.

Then its settled, Nora said, signing the paperwork.

Hand in hand, they left the office. Their first stop was a large clothing store. They bought Sam a pair of jeans and a shirt. Nora led him to the shoe aisle, where Sams mismatched sneakers lay abandoned.

Dont worry, she assured him. After the celebration well visit a podiatrist and order you boots with special insoles so youll walk evenly, almost without a limp.

They then visited a barber, and later Nora fetched Ethel from her own flat. For the first time Sam stepped beyond the orphanage walls, into a proper home. The scent of family, the soft hum of a living room, the warmth of a hearth wrapped around him. He perched on the edge of a sofa, eyes wandering. Directly before him a huge aquarium glittered, fish of all colours dartinga sight hed only ever seen on television.

Im ready, Ethel said. Lets go, Sam, Mum will catch up.

They rode the lift down, then walked toward a car. By a sandbox a boy shouted, Lampswoman, lampsman!

Hold on a moment, Ethel said, stepping toward the boy. In an instant, the boy tumbled into the sand.

Whats wrong with you? he muttered, halfburied. I was just joking.

Save the jokes for somewhere else, Ethel replied.

The airfield was painted in vibrant colours. Uncle Andy met them, leading Sam to his aircrafta massive silver plane that seemed to breathe with power. Sams breath caught; the sight of the machine filled his soul with awe. Later, an air show took place. People waved, shouted, and cheered as planes roared overhead. When Uncle Andys plane appeared, Ethel waved and yelled, Dads flying! Dad!

Sam, clumsy with excitement, leapt and shouted, Dad! Look, Dads up there! He didnt notice Ethels quiet stare at her mother, who was wiping away tears.

That evening, after dinner, Andy sat beside Sam and draped an arm over his shoulders.

We believe everyone should have a family, he said. Only within a family can we truly learn love, protect one another, and feel cherished. Would you like to be part of ours?

A tight knot rose in Sams throat, choking his breath. He pressed close to Andy and whispered, Dad, Ive always waited for you.

A month later, a happy Sam bid farewell to the orphanage. He descended the steps with pride, holding his fathers hand, limping only slightly. At the gate he paused, glanced back at the building, and waved to the children and caretakers.

Were about to cross the line into a new life, his father said. Leave the bad memories behind, but remember those on the porch; they helped you survive. Be forever grateful to those who lifted you up.