“Promise me you’ll give me a meal, and I’ll bring your daughter back…” the beggar boy told the businessman.
“Promise me you’ll give me a meal, and I’ll bring your daughter back,” the beggar boy told the businessman. Carlos Javier Mendoza clenched his fists as he stared at the gray granite headstone. Six months had passed since his daughter Fernanda had simply vanished, and each visit to his wife’s grave brought a guilt he could no longer bear.
That’s when he felt a light touch on his arm. A thin boy, with torn clothes and bare feet, was watching him with dark eyes that seemed to carry the weight of the world. “You’re the father of the girl who ran away, aren’t you?” the boy asked in a voice too hoarse for someone who couldn’t have been more than 10 years old.
Carlos turned completely around, surprised. How did that boy know about Fernanda? “Promise me a meal and I’ll bring your daughter back,” the boy said before the businessman could respond. “Who are you? How do you know about my daughter?” Carlos reacted with a mixture of anger and despair. “My name is Mateo.”
“I’ve been living on the streets for a long time, and I saw the little girl crying for her dad,” the boy replied without looking away. Carlos’s heart raced. Fernanda had run away after a terrible argument about her poor grades in school. He had yelled at her, called her irresponsible, and compared her to his business partners’ children.
The last thing she said before slamming the door was that she’d rather live on the street than endure his pressure. Did you really see her? Where? Carlos’s voice trembled under the bridge over the Remedios River. He was hungry. I tried to give him a piece of bread, but he ran when he saw me coming. Mateo hesitated. He was afraid of strangers.
Carlos felt his legs go weak. For six months he had hired the best private detectives in Mexico City, put up posters all over the city, offered rewards. Nothing. And now this street kid said he had found her. “When was that?” he asked, crouching down to the boy’s eye level.
It’s been about three days, but she doesn’t stay in the same place. The girls are always on the move. It’s safer that way, Mateo explained as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Why are you telling me this?” Carlos asked suspiciously. Mateo lowered his gaze for the first time. “Because I’m looking for someone too, my younger sister, Valeria.”
We got lost when the stream in the neighborhood flooded. And because I know what it’s like to be alone. Something in the boy’s voice touched Carlos in a way he couldn’t explain. There was a sincerity there that pierced all his defenses. You help me find your daughter, and I’ll give you food. It’s not much, is it? Mateo looked up again.
Carlos observed the boy’s thin face, the prominent cheekbones, the clothes that had once been different colors. When was the last time this boy had cooked a decent meal? “All right,” he said finally. “But first you’re coming home with me. We’re going to talk this out properly.”
Mateo took a suspicious step back. “I don’t go to enclosed spaces. I’ve been tricked before.” “Then tell me where I can find you tomorrow,” Carlos insisted. “And what do you eat? What do you need? Anything will do. I’m not picky,” Mateo replied quickly. “Tomorrow I’ll be in Constitution Square, near the Kosco, at noon.”
Carlos nodded, still processing the surreal situation. A street kid claiming to know his daughter’s whereabouts. It seemed impossible, but it was the first real lead in months. “Mateo, are you sure it was her? Brown hair, green eyes, a small scar on her forehead. The scar is from when she fell off her bike, right?” Mateo said without hesitation.
She talked about it when she had a fever. Carlos felt like the world was spinning. Fernanda really did have that scar from a childhood accident, but it was something very few people knew. This boy had truly found it. Dear listener, if you’re enjoying the story, please leave a like and, above all, subscribe to the channel.
That helps those of us who are just starting out a lot. Moving on. The next day, Carlos Javier arrived at the Plaza de la Constitución carrying two bags of food. He had spent the entire night awake, wavering between hope and skepticism. His housekeeper, Doña Guadalupe, had prepared sandwiches, fruit, juice, and sweets, though without fully understanding the situation.
Mateo was exactly where he’d promised to be, sitting on the steps of the kosco, watching the activity with keen eyes. When he saw Carlos Javier approaching, his face lit up discreetly. “You did come,” he said, as if he still couldn’t quite believe it. “I said I’d come.” Carlos Javier sat down next to the boy and held out the bags. “Here’s your food.”
Now tell me everything you know about my daughter. Mateo opened the first bag and his eyes widened at the amount of food. He took a sandwich with trembling hands and took a big bite, closing his eyes as if he were savoring the best dish in the world.
“Excuse me, I haven’t eaten properly in two days,” he muttered through his mouth. Carlos Javier felt a tightness in his chest. When was the last time he truly cared if someone was hungry? His life had always revolved around meetings, contracts, and profits. People’s basic needs were abstract concepts to him.
“Tell me about Fernanda,” he insisted, but in a softer voice. Mateo swallowed the piece of sandwich and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “She was under the bridge, huddled in a very narrow corner, you know? Her hair was all tangled up. When I tried to approach her, she yelled at me not to come near her. She said something.”
She said she didn’t trust anyone, that all adults lie, and she cried a lot, calling for Daddy, Daddy. Mateo paused. That’s why I knew it was his daughter when I saw him at the cemetery. Carlos Javier swallowed hard. Fernanda was calling for him, even after everything that had happened between them. Do you know where she went? No, but I know the places where children usually hide.
I can show them to you if you’d like. The offer was tempting, but Carlos Javier hesitated. He knew nothing about life on the streets, about the dangers a child faced every day. His experience was limited to air-conditioned offices and meetings in luxury hotels. “Is it dangerous?” he asked. Mateo let out a bitter laugh.
Everything is dangerous when you have nowhere to sleep, sir, but I know the safest places and I know how not to attract attention. So, let’s go. Carlos Javier stood up resolutely. Now Mateo looked surprised. Now every minute that passes is more time that my daughter is out there alone.
Mateo quickly stuffed the rest of the food into the torn backpack he was carrying and stood up as well. “Come on, then, but you’re going to have to take off that nice suit. On the streets, clothes like that are like a painted target.” Carlos Javier looked at his 3,000-peso Italian suit and realized how out of place he must look.
He, who always dressed to impress, to demonstrate power and success, now needed to disguise himself to find his own daughter. “Where can I change my clothes? There’s a shop over there that sells secondhand clothes. The owner is a good person. He must have something that will fit you.” Twenty minutes later, Carlos Javier was unrecognizable.
Faded jeans, a simple t-shirt, old sneakers. Mateo had even managed to get a cap to hide his neatly cut hair. “Now we’re talking,” the boy approved. “Let’s start with the subway tunnels. That’s where the kids stay when it’s cold.” As they walked through the streets of downtown Mexico City, Carlos Javier observed a world that had always existed beside him, but that he had never truly seen.
Children selling candy at the traffic light, entire families sleeping on cardboard boxes, young people collecting cans from the trash. “How did you end up on the streets, Mateo?” she asked as they walked down toward a subway station. The boy was silent for a moment. My dad left when I was 6. My mom started drinking after that.
When she couldn’t take care of us anymore, Valeria and I went to live with my aunt. And your aunt? She did what she could, but she had six children of her own. When the flood came last year, they were all scattered. I grabbed Valeria’s hand, but the current was too strong. Mateo’s voice broke.
Carlos Javier noticed that the boy carried a pain as deep as his own. “You’ve already looked for her in official institutions, shelters, hospitals.” “I’ve looked everywhere, but there are so many lost children out there, you know? And Valeria is shy, she doesn’t talk easily to strangers.” They reached the subway tunnel. The smell of urine and dampness was suffocating, but Mateo moved about naturally.
He greeted a few people he recognized. Carlos Javier tried to hide his discomfort, but every step he took in that environment made him question how his daughter could have survived there. “Hello, Don Ramón.” Mateo approached an older man who was asleep leaning against the wall. “Haven’t you seen a girl around here? Brown hair, about 14 years old.”
The man opened his eyes and eyed Carlos Javier suspiciously. “Who is that?” “It’s her father. He’s looking for his daughter who ran away from home.” Don Ramón studied Carlos Javier for a few seconds before answering. “There’s a girl who came through here last week. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, she just took some bread Sister Teresa brought and left.”
“Where did he go?” Carlos Javier asked anxiously. “I don’t know, young man. A scared child doesn’t tell anyone his plans.” Mateo thanked him and they continued to the next place. They visited three more tunnels, an abandoned plaza, and a building under construction. In each place, Mateo knew someone. He had a network of contacts that Carlos Javier never imagined existed.
In fourth place, a young woman with a baby in her arms recognized Fernanda’s description. “The little girl you’re talking about came by here yesterday morning. She had a nasty cough. I asked her if she needed help, but she ran away.” Carlos Javier’s heart raced. Fernanda was sick and alone, and he wasn’t there to take care of her.
He said, “Where were you going?” He said something about a public hospital. I think she wanted to get medical attention. Carlos Javier immediately thought about running to every hospital in the city, but Mateo grabbed his arm. “Calm down, sir. Hospitals ask a lot of questions. If she ran away from home, she’s not going to give her real name or anything.”
So how are we going to find her? Local knowledge. Mateo smiled for the first time since they met. There’s a nurse at the Regional General Hospital who helps street children. She doesn’t ask questions, she just attends to them. If his daughter went to a public hospital, it was there. The Regional General Hospital was an hour’s walk from the center.
During the journey, Carlos Javier called his office several times, canceling meetings and postponing appointments. His secretary, Adriana, seemed confused by the schedule changes. “Mr. Mendoza, the meeting with the Japanese investors is today at 4 p.m. They came specifically for that. Reschedule for tomorrow, Adriana.”
But, sir, that meeting was scheduled three months ago. I told you to reschedule it. Carlos Javier hung up the phone abruptly. Mateo watched him curiously. Is his job really that important? I thought so, too, Carlos Javier replied, putting his phone away. But now I’m not sure about anything. They arrived at the hospital in the mid-afternoon.
Mateo knew exactly where to find the nurse he’d mentioned. She was in the pediatric ward finishing her shift. “Hello, Marisol,” Mateo approached. “You attended to a girl about 14 years old.” Brown hair, pale complexion. The nurse, a Black woman in her fifties, smiled when she saw Mateo. “Hello, my angel. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around here.”
Yes, I saw a little girl this morning. Poor thing, she had pneumonia just starting. She’s doing well. Carlos Javier interrupted desperately. Marisol looked at him intently. And you’re her father? Mateo explained. It’s a long story. She’s doing well, she received medication and IV fluids, but she passed away before finishing her treatment.
She said she couldn’t stay. “Where did she go?” Carlos Javier asked. “I don’t know, dear, but she left this here.” Marisol showed him a small beaded bracelet. “He recognizes it.” Carlos Javier took the bracelet, his hands trembling. It was a gift he had given Fernanda for her tenth birthday. At the time, he thought it was very simple, almost cheap, but she wore it every day.
“It’s hers,” he whispered. “She left it on purpose.” “Why?” Mateo asked. “Because she knew I’d look for her. It’s our way of leaving a message. It always has been.” Marisol watched their interaction with interest. “Can I offer a suggestion?” she said, “Sick children often return to places that remind them of safety.”
“Grandma’s house, the old school, some place that holds good memories.” Carlos Javier immediately thought of his mother’s house, where Fernanda had spent many weekends before his grandmother passed away two years ago. It was in Coyoacán, not far from there.
“Mateo, would you like to come with me to my mother’s house?” she asked. “Of course, your daughter can be there.” They thanked Marisol and left the hospital. The sun was beginning to set, painting the Mexico City sky in shades of orange. Carlos Javier called a taxi, but Mateo hesitated before getting in. “I’ve never taken a taxi before,” he admitted, embarrassed.
“It’s just a car, Mateo. It’s no different than riding in a truck.” During the ride, Carlos Javier watched Mateo’s behavior in the taxi, cautiously touching the seat, impressed by the air conditioning. It was a constant reminder of how different their realities were. “Tell me more about your sister,” Carlos Javier asked, trying to break the silence. Mateo opened up a little.
Valeria is very smart. She’s eight years old, but she looks older. She’s the one who taught me to read. You know, she always said we had to study to have a better life. She studied whenever she could at the school near the poor neighborhood. But after the flood, Mateo sighed. She wanted to be a teacher.
She always said she was going to teach other children the way she taught me. Carlos Javier felt a pang of guilt as he demanded perfect grades from Fernanda, threatening to take away privileges if she didn’t meet his expectations. There were children like Valeria who simply dreamed of having the opportunity to learn.
They arrived at the house in Coyoacán after nightfall. It was a simple, middle-class house, very different from the mansion where Carlos Javier currently lived. He had bought it for his mother after achieving business success, but she had always preferred simplicity. The house had been empty for two years, but Carlos Javier kept a cleaning lady who came once a month.
The front windows were closed, but a light was on in the kitchen. “There’s someone in there,” Mateo whispered. “It could be a burglar,” Carlos Javier said, taking out his cell phone to call security. “Or it could be your daughter,” Mateo replied. “Let’s take a look before we call anyone.” They circled the back of the house.
The kitchen door was ajar, and they could hear the soft sound of someone moving pots and pans. Carlos Javier went to the window and looked inside. Fernanda was there. She was thinner, her hair disheveled, and her clothes dirty, but it was her. She was stirring a pot on the stove, and Carlos Javier could see she was shivering, probably still running a fever.
“It’s her,” he whispered to Mateo. “What are you going to do?” Carlos Javier hesitated. His first reaction was to run inside and hug her, but he remembered Mateo’s words about frightened children. If Fernanda ran away again, he might not get a second chance. “I’ll go in quietly,” he decided. “You stay here in case she tries to leave through the front door. Be careful, sir.”
She had been scared for a while. Carlos Javier slowly opened the back door and entered the kitchen. Fernanda had her back to him, stirring something that looked like instant soup. He took a step forward, and a floorboard creaked. Fernanda immediately turned around, dropping the pot in fright. When she saw her father, her eyes filled with tears, but at the same time, she backed away toward the door.
“Fernanda,” Carlos Javier said gently. “I’m not going to force you to come back, I just wanted to know if you’re okay.” The little girl eyed him suspiciously. She was clearly sick, and it took all his self-control not to rush to her. “You have a fever,” he observed. “You should have stayed in the hospital.”
“How do you know I went to the hospital?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “A friend helped me find you. He knows the places where children take refuge.” Fernanda looked around, searching for other people. Where is he? He’s outside. His name is Mateo. He’s also looking for someone he loves. For a few minutes, father and daughter stared at each other, unsure what to say.
Fernanda was trembling from both fever and nervousness. “Why did you leave, Fer?” Carlos Javier asked, using the affectionate nickname he hadn’t used in years. “Because I’m never good enough for you,” she replied, tears finally falling. “Because you only notice me when I do something wrong.”
The words hit Carlos Javier like punches to the gut. He realized that every time he’d spoken to Fernanda in recent years it had been about demands, grades, behavior, responsibilities. When was the last time she’d simply asked him how he was feeling? You’re right, he admitted.
I’ve been a terrible father, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You never say it. I’m Osó Fernanda. I know, and I’m sorry about that. Dear listener, if you’re enjoying the story, please leave a like and, above all, subscribe to the channel. That helps those of us who are just starting out a lot. Moving on. Carlos Javier took a cautious step toward his daughter.
“Can I hug you?” Fernanda asked. He hesitated, but finally nodded. When Carlos Javier hugged her, he felt how thin and fragile she was. She trembled in his arms, and he realized it was the first time in years that he had truly paid attention to his daughter’s physical well-being. “Let’s take you home and call a doctor,” he said gently.
“I don’t want to go back to that house,” Fernanda murmured to herself. “Everything there reminds me how much I disappoint. So, let’s change that. Let’s change everything.” Mateo appeared hesitantly in the kitchen doorway. “Excuse me for interrupting, but I overheard your conversation. May I come in?” Fernanda looked up at him.
When he saw her torn clothes and tired appearance, something changed in his gaze. “Are you the one who lives on the street?” he asked. “Yes. And you’re the girl who was crying under the bridge. Did you see me?” “I saw you. I tried to help you, but you ran away.” Fernanda lowered her gaze, ashamed. She was afraid of everything. Of everyone. “I understand,” Mateo said, sitting down on the kitchen floor.
When you’re lost, anyone can seem dangerous. Your father searched for you for a long time, Mateo continued. He cried when he found out you were sick. Fernanda looked at Carlos Javier in surprise. “You cried?” “I did,” Carlos Javier admitted. “I cried because I realized I could lose you forever without ever having told you how important you are to me.”
The three of them were silent for a few moments. Then Fernanda began coughing violently, and Carlos Javier realized he needed to act quickly regarding her health. “Fer, you need medical attention. I can call Dr. Ricardo to come to our house.” “Which house?” she asked, still wary. “Wherever you want to be. If you don’t want to go back to the mansion, we can stay here at Grandma’s house for a while.”
Fernanda considered the proposal, and he gestured to Mateo, asking where he would stay. “I’ll manage,” Mateo said quickly. “I always have.” “No,” Fernanda said firmly. “He helped me, and he’s looking for his sister. He can stay with us until he finds her.” Carlos Javier looked at Mateo, then at Fernanda.
His daughter was showing a compassion he’d forgotten to teach her. Actually, perhaps she’d always had that quality, and he’d simply never noticed. “Sure,” Mateo agreed. “Would you like to stay here with us for a while? I don’t want to be a bother.” “You won’t be a bother,” Fernanda interrupted. “And we can look for your sister together.”
I know the whole city. You know the whole city? Carlos Javier asked, surprised. I spent months walking around, Dad. I learned so much about Mexico City that you have no idea. That night, Carlos Javier called Dr. Ricardo, the family doctor, who came to the house to treat Fernanda’s pneumonia.
He also called Doña Guadalupe, his housekeeper, asking her to bring clean clothes and groceries. Doña Guadalupe arrived an hour later, laden with bags. She was a 60-year-old woman who had worked for Carlos Javier for over a decade. When she saw Mateo in the living room, she couldn’t hide her surprise. “Mr. Carlos Javier, who is this boy?” “It’s Mateo, Doña Guadalupe.”
He’s going to stay with us for a while. Stay where? Here, in this house. Doña Guadalupe looked around the simple house, then at Fernanda lying on the sofa, then at Mateo curled up in an armchair. You’re not going back to the mansion. No, for now we’re going to stay here until Fernanda gets better and until we find Mateo’s sister.
Mateo’s sister. Doña Guadalupe seemed increasingly confused. Carlos Javier briefly explained the situation, watching as the keyholder’s expression gradually changed from surprise to understanding. “I understand,” she finally said. “The child must be hungry. Doña Guadalupe, isn’t it necessary?” “Of course it’s necessary,” she interrupted Mateo. “Such a thin child in front of me.”
I’ll be right back with some real food. While Doña Guadalupe organized the kitchen, Carlos Javier sat down next to his daughter on the sofa. “How are you feeling?” “Better,” Fernanda replied, settling in to look at him. “Dad, can I ask you something?” Of course. Why didn’t you ever ask me how I was feeling? It was always about grades, about what I’d done wrong. Carlos Javier took a deep breath.
It was a conversation he knew he needed to have, but he didn’t know how to start because he didn’t know how to be a father, he admitted. My own father was like that with me, always demanding, always criticizing. I thought I was preparing you for the world. But preparing me for what? To be unhappy like you? The question hit him hard.
Carlos Javier realized that Fernanda had seen through all his facade of success. “Am I unhappy?” he asked, genuinely curious about her perception. “Dad, when was the last time you smiled? Really.” Fernanda sat down on the sofa. “When was the last time you did something just because it made you happy?” Carlos Javier thought, but couldn’t remember.
In recent years, everything in her life revolved around work, responsibilities, and financial goals. “I don’t remember,” she admitted. “That’s why I left, because I didn’t want to become like you, always worried, always dissatisfied, always thinking I’m not good enough.” Mateo, who had been listening to the conversation silently, joined them.
“Can I say something?” he asked hesitantly. “Sure,” Fernanda replied. “You two are very lucky,” she said simply. “How so?” Carlos Javier asked. “Because you can still work things out. My sister and I never fought, we never had the chance to fight over silly things. Life was always about surviving.”
Mateo, Fernanda began, “what I mean is that fighting with someone you love is a luxury; it means you have time, you have security, you have a relationship worth fixing.” The boy’s words made Carlos Javier and Fernanda look at each other with new eyes. Mateo was right.
They were arguing over problems that, compared to the daily struggle for survival, seemed minor. “You’re very wise for a child,” Carlos Javier said. “The streets teach you fast,” Mateo replied. “You learn or you don’t,” he finished the sentence. “No.” Doña Guadalupe returned to the living room carrying trays of food. She had prepared a nutritious soup for Fernanda, generous sandwiches for Mateo, and a full dinner for everyone.
“My dear Mateo, come here,” she called. “First you’ll take a bath, then you’ll eat. I brought some of my grandson’s clothes that should fit you.” “Can I bathe after I eat?” Mateo asked, clearly uncomfortable. “No, my darling. First you take care of yourself, then you take care of your stomach. That’s how it works in a family.” The word “family” echoed in the room.
Mateo looked at Carlos Javier and Fernanda as if he didn’t want to believe what he was hearing. “I’m not family,” he said quietly. “For now, you are,” Fernanda replied firmly. “And when we find your sister, she will be too.” That night, after Mateo showered and they all ate dinner together, they sat in the living room to discuss the search plan for Valeria.
Fernanda, still weak but determined, had made a list of all the places she had been during her months on the streets. “There’s a group of kids who protect each other,” she explained. “They hang out in an abandoned part of the Buenavista station. Do they know anything about Valeria?” “It’s dangerous,” Carlos Javier asked.
“Everything is dangerous when you have no choice.” Mateo repeated the words he had said before. “But now you do have a choice,” Carlos Javier said. “You have a home, food, security. You don’t need to take risks.” “Dad,” Fernanda interrupted, “Mateo’s sister is lost. How would you feel if I were lost and someone refused to help me because it was dangerous?” Carlos Javier understood that his daughter was right.
For the past six months, he had begged anyone who would help find Fernanda. Now it was her turn to reciprocate. Okay. We’ll look for Valeria, but we’ll do it right, safely. The next day, Fernanda felt better after a good night’s sleep and some medication. Dr.
Ricardo had said he could go out as long as he avoided strenuous physical activity. They began the search around the Buenavista station. Carlos Javier dressed in simple clothes again and this time brought Doña Guadalupe, who had insisted on accompanying them. Three adults searching for a girl attracts less attention than a man alone, he argued.
At the station, they found the group of teenagers Fernanda had mentioned. There were five boys and three girls between the ages of 12 and 16 who had created a mutual protection network. The group’s leader was a 15-year-old girl named Daniela, who eyed Carlos Javier suspiciously as they approached. “What do you want?” she asked, positioning herself to protect the younger ones.
“We’re looking for a girl,” Mateo explained. “My sister’s name is Valeria. She’s eight years old, has curly hair, and is very shy.” “And why do you think I would know her?” Daniela asked. “Why do you protect the younger children?” Fernanda replied. “I know how it works. When I was on the streets, I always looked for groups like yours.”
Daniela studied Fernanda for a few seconds, recognizing something in her gaze. “You really lived on the streets for six months and now you’re back home with a rich dad?” There was a hint of bitterness in Daniela’s voice. “It wasn’t exactly like that,” Fernanda said patiently. “It was more complicated, but the important thing now is to find Valeria.”
Daniela hesitated, clearly torn between distrust and the desire to help. A little girl passed by here about two weeks ago, small and scared, but she didn’t want to stay with us. “Where did she go?” Mateo asked anxiously. One of the girls in the group took her to the House of Light. It’s an unofficial shelter, somewhat hidden. The owner doesn’t ask questions.
“Where is it?” Carlos Javier asked. “I’m not going to give the address to an adult I don’t know,” Daniela replied firmly. “But you could take us,” Fernanda asked. Daniela considered the suggestion. “I can take you close, but what if it’s a trap?” “It’s not a trap,” Mateo said. “I just want to find my sister.”
“And if she doesn’t want to go with you, we’ll respect that,” Carlos Javier replied, surprising himself with his own words. Daniela seemed satisfied with the answer. “Okay, but only I’m going with you. The rest of you stay here.” The group followed Daniela through downtown streets that Carlos Javier didn’t even know existed.
He led them through narrow alleyways, passages between buildings, shortcuts that only someone who knew the area well would know how to use. The House of Light was located in a discreet alley in Santa María la Ribera. It was a simple house painted yellow with a small sign on the door that read “Only Light.”
Here, Daniela pointed out, Doña Esperanza is the one who takes care of the place. If her sister is here, she’ll know. Carlos Javier knocked on the door. A Black woman, about 70 years old, opened it, observing the group with curiosity. “Can I help you?” Mateo asked. “We’re looking for a little girl.” “My sister Valeria, 8 years old, curly hair.” Doña Esperanza’s face lit up. “Okay, of course, she’s here.”
She arrived two weeks ago, quite ill. But you’re Mateo, her brother. Doña Esperanza studied the boy for a few seconds, then smiled. She talks about you all the time. My brother is coming to get me. She never stops saying it. Come in, everyone. Mateo’s heart was beating so loudly that Carlos Javier could hear it.
They entered a simple but clean room where several children were playing or watching television. “Okay,” Doña Esperanza called. “Is anyone here to see you?” A little girl appeared at the top of a staircase. When she saw Mateo, her eyes widened and she ran down the steps. “Mate!” she shouted, throwing herself into her brother’s arms.
Mateo hugged her so tightly that Carlos Javier was afraid he might hurt the little girl. They were both crying, speaking incoherently at the same time, words of relief and happiness. “I knew you were going to find me,” Valeria sobbed. “I told everyone my brother was coming to get me.” “Sorry for taking so long,” Mateo replied, stroking his sister’s hair.
I’m sorry I lost you in the flood. It wasn’t your fault, Mate. The water was very strong. Fernanda watched the reunion with tears in her eyes. Carlos Javier observed how his daughter had changed, how she had developed empathy and maturity during her own ordeal. Doña Esperanza approached Carlos Javier. “Are you their father?” “Not exactly,” Carlos Javier replied.
It’s complicated, but I’m going to take care of them. I understand, it happens a lot around here. Families forming however they can. After half an hour of being reunited, Mateo turned to Carlos Javier and Fernanda. Now that I’ve found Vale, you can go back home. I don’t want to bother anyone anymore. Mateo, Fernanda said firmly, you’re not bothering me at all.
Now we’re a family. But you don’t even know me well. We know enough, Carlos Javier interrupted. We know you’re loyal, brave, and that you helped me find my daughter when I needed it most. Valeria, who had been listening to the conversation, gently tugged at Carlos Javier’s clothes. Are you going to take care of us? If you want, yes.
“And you’re not going to kick us out when you get tired?” The innocent question struck Carlos Javier deeply. How many times had they abandoned these children only for them to ask such a question? Never, he promised, kneeling down to be at the girl’s eye level. A family doesn’t abandon its family. Valeria smiled for the first time since she had arrived.
It was a shy smile, but genuine. “Okay, fine, but I want to help around the house. I know how to cook and clean.” “You don’t have to work, okay?” Doña Guadalupe said gently. “You have to play and study. Study.” Valeria’s eyes sparkled. “Really, really,” Carlos Javier confirmed, “you two are going to study and play and be children.”
Dear listener, if you’re enjoying the story, please leave a like and, above all, subscribe to the channel. That really helps those of us who are just starting out. Moving on, in the following weeks, the life of the makeshift family in the Coyoacán house settled into a routine that none of them had ever experienced before.
Carlos Javier discovered he enjoyed waking up early to have breakfast with the children, something he had never done with Fernanda when she was little. Mateo and Valeria slowly adjusted to their new reality. Mateo still woke up startled sometimes, forgetting where he was. Valeria had occasional nightmares about the flood, but she was gradually regaining her confidence.
Fernanda became the bridge between the two worlds. She understood both the life of privilege and the struggle on the streets, and she helped everyone understand each other better. One morning, Carlos Javier was making coffee when he received a call from his senior partner, Miguel Ángel Torres. “Carlos Javier, are you okay? You’ve barely shown up at the office for three weeks.”
The clients ask, “I’m dealing with family matters, Miguel Ángel.” “What family matters?” “You don’t have any family besides Fernanda.” “And she was missing. She came back. And now we have a bigger family.” “What do you mean, bigger?” Carlos Javier briefly explained the situation. There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
“You adopted street children?” Miguel Ángel finally asked, incredulous. “We’re still processing the official paperwork, but yes, Carlos Javier, that’s crazy. You don’t know those children. It could be dangerous, Miguel Ángel. These children saved me. They literally saved me. Saved you from what? From myself.” Miguel Ángel clearly didn’t understand the answer.
But he continued, “Look, you’re free to make your personal decisions, but professionally we need you focused. The company, the company will be fine.” Carlos Javier interrupted him. “I have competent employees. You’re an excellent partner. I’ll continue working, but the priorities have changed.”
“Carlos Javier, you’re going through an emotional crisis. It’s normal after a traumatic situation. How about seeking professional help? How about accepting that I might be doing the first truly important thing in my life?” After hanging up the phone, Carlos Javier sat at the kitchen table, deep in thought. Fernanda appeared, already dressed for the day.
“Was that Uncle Miguel Ángel?” he asked. “It was.” “Do you think I’m crazy?” “Do you?” Carlos Javier looked around the simple kitchen where Mateo was helping Valeria eat cereal, where Doña Guadalupe was humming as she prepared lunch, where her daughter was genuinely smiling for the first time in years.
If this is madness, I’d rather be mad than sane like before. That day they decided to take an important step: enrolling Mateo and Valeria in school. Carlos Javier chose the same private school where Fernanda studied, an institution renowned for its quality of education. The meeting with the principal, Professor Claudia, was initially tense.
Mr. Mendoza, looking at the documents, said, “The children have been out of the formal school system for over a year. An evaluation will be necessary to determine which grade they should be placed in.” “Of course, we understand,” Carlos Javier replied. “Besides, there’s the issue of social adjustment. Children who have lived in vulnerable situations sometimes have difficulty integrating.”
“Professor Claudia,” Fernanda interrupted respectfully. “May I speak?” The principal nodded. “I also went through a difficult situation recently. These children are more resilient and intelligent than many of my colleagues. What they need is opportunity, not prejudice.” “Fernanda, wasn’t that what you were saying?”
“Yes, it was,” Mateo said calmly. “But it’s okay, we’re used to it, we just want to study.” Mateo’s simple honesty disarmed the headmistress. She looked at the boy for a few seconds, then sighed. “Okay. We’ll do the assessment next week, and I’ll personally make sure they have all the support they need.”
After the meeting at the school, they stopped at a lunch counter to celebrate. It was a simple place, very different from the expensive restaurants Carlos Javier usually frequented, but the joy at the table was worth more than any gourmet meal. “Can I ask a question?” Valeria said, gathering her courage.
“Sure, okay,” Carlos Javier replied. “Why are you being so kind to us? You don’t gain anything from this.” The innocent question made Carlos Javier stop and think. It was true, he didn’t gain anything material by taking care of Mateo and Valeria, but he did gain something he hadn’t realized he’d lost. “Yes, I do gain,” he finally said. “I gain a real family. I gain my daughter’s respect.”
I gain a reason to wake up in the morning other than just work. And I gain the opportunity to do something that truly matters, he added. That night, after the children were asleep, Carlos Javier and Doña Guadalupe were talking in the kitchen. “You’ve changed a lot,” she observed. “For the better, much for the better.”
Fernanda was getting lost before, you know? She was getting sadder and sadder, more withdrawn. Now she’s smiling again, and Mateo and Valeria are blossoming. Doña Guadalupe smiled. It’s beautiful to see. Yesterday Valeria asked me if she could call me Grandma Guadalupe. I almost cried. And you said yes. Of course.
This house needs grandparents, uncles, a big, noisy family. Carlos Javier pondered the housekeeper’s words. For years he had built a perfect life on paper—a house, an imported car, a thriving business—but it was a life devoid of real connections. Guadalupe, may I ask you something? Of course, Mr. Carlos Javier.
Do you think I’m doing the right thing? Everyone around me seems to think it’s crazy. Doña Guadalupe stopped organizing the kitchen and sat down at the table with him. Mr. Carlos Javier, I’ve worked in the homes of wealthy people for over 20 years. I’ve seen it all. Families with more than enough money, but they don’t speak to each other.
Children who have everything but parental attention. People who are successful at work but fail as human beings. And this is the first house where I’ve worked that truly feels like a family. For the first time, I see real love happening. Doña Guadalupe’s words deeply moved Carlos Javier.
She was beginning to understand that true success wasn’t measured in bank accounts or professional achievements. That weekend, they decided to visit Daniela and the group of teenagers at the Buenavista station. They brought food and some donations that Carlos Javier had organized. Daniela was surprised to see them. “I didn’t think they’d come back,” she admitted.
“Why?” Fernanda asked. Usually, when people get what they want, they forget those who helped them along the way. “We don’t forget,” Carlos Javier said. “In fact, we were wondering if you’d like help getting off the streets too.” The whole group fell silent.
It was a proposal none of them expected. “What kind of help?” one of the younger girls asked. “Documents, school, a temporary place to stay while they get organized,” Carlos Javier explained. “It’s not about quality, it’s about a support network.” “Why would you do that?” Daniela questioned, still skeptical. “Because everyone deserves a chance,” Mateo replied, “and because family doesn’t abandon family.”
The phrase Valeria always said had become the group’s unofficial motto. Not all the children accepted the proposal immediately. Some were very distrustful of adults. Others had ties to the streets that they didn’t want to abandon. But three of them—Daniela, a boy named Sebastián, and a girl named Isabela—decided to accept.
The house in Coyoacán suddenly became too small for so many people. Carlos Javier made a decision that surprised everyone. He sold the mansion in Polanco. “Dad, are you sure?” Fernanda asked when he told her about the decision. “I am. That house was never really ours. It was just a status symbol.”
We’re going to buy a bigger house here in the neighborhood, where we can take in all the children who need it. And if the money isn’t enough, Ferta, I’ve discovered I need much less money to be happy than I imagined. The sale of the mansion generated comments throughout Carlos Javier’s social circle. Some associates thought he’d completely lost his mind.
Others began to question their own values. Miguel Ángel, his partner, requested an urgent meeting. “Carlos Javier, the clients are worried. They think you’re going through a crisis and that you might make bad business decisions as well. What do you think?” “I think you’re more focused and determined than I’ve seen you in years.”
I just don’t understand why. Carlos Javier looked out the office window where he could see the city bustling about. “Miguel Ángel, why do you work, Viu?” “What do you mean, why?” “To be successful, to make money, to build something. And after you build that something, after you have all the money you want, after you achieve all the success possible.” Miguel Ángel remained silent.
I’d never thought about that. Me neither, but now I know the answer. After all that, you want to have a reason why it was all worth it. And that reason isn’t numbers in a bank account. And your reason is taking care of street children. My reason is building a family. It’s giving a chance to someone who never had one.
It’s about teaching my daughter that true success is making a difference in other people’s lives. Miguel Ángel left the meeting deep in thought. In the following days, Carlos Javier noticed that his partner had started asking the children questions about the project. The new house Carlos Javier bought was on a quiet street in Coyoacán.
It had five bedrooms and a large patio where the children could play. Doña Guadalupe was in charge of decorating, and she made sure each child had their own bed and a personalized corner. “I’ve never had a bed just for me,” Sebastián confessed on moving day. “Now you do,” Valeria replied, “and you’ll never sleep on the floor again.”
The children adjusted to the new house, each at their own pace. Daniela was the most reserved, clearly expecting something to go wrong. Sebastián and Isabela quickly became enthusiastic about the prospect of returning to their studies, but the biggest challenge came from an unexpected source: Fernanda herself. One night, she went looking for Carlos Javier at the studio.
Dad, can I talk to you? “Always, Fer.” “What’s wrong?” “I’m jealous,” she admitted, looking down. “Jealous of what?” “Of the attention you give the other kids.” “I know it’s wrong. I know they need it more than I do, but I waited so long to have your real attention, and now I have to share it.” Carlos Javier stood up and hugged his daughter. “Fer, look at me,” he said gently.
“Love doesn’t diminish when it’s divided, it multiplies. I don’t love you any less for loving Mateo, Valeria, and the others. If anything, I love you more, because you taught me how to love.” How so? Before you left, I didn’t know how to show love. I didn’t know how to be present, to be affectionate, to be a real father. You made me learn those things, and now I can give them to other children too.
But what if you get tired of me? What if the other children are easier to deal with? Fernanda Mendoza, Carlos Javier said firmly, “You are my daughter. You are a part of me in a way that no one else can be. That will never change, no matter how many other people we love. Do you promise?” “I promise and more. I want you to be a co-leader with me in this project.”
I want your opinion on all the important decisions about the other children. Fernanda’s eyes filled with tears. Seriously, you understand these children in a way I’ll never understand. You’re essential. In the following months, the house transformed into a real home.
The children established their routines for studying, playing, and taking on household responsibilities. Carlos Javier discovered he enjoyed helping with chores, something he had never done with Fernanda. “Why is 12 * 8 96?” Sebastián asked one night while studying math. “Because it’s the same as eight groups of 12 or 12 groups of 8,” Carlos Javier explained patiently. “Ah.”
Sebastian’s eyes lit up. It was as if he had eight bags, and in each bag there were 12 loaves of bread. Exactly. Carlos Javier discovered that teaching was one of the most rewarding activities he had ever experienced. Seeing a child grasp a new concept was more satisfying than closing the biggest deal of his career.
Mateo particularly excelled in his studies. His thirst for knowledge was impressive, and he devoured books with the same intensity with which he once searched for food. “Mate, what do you want to be when you grow up?” Valeria asked one afternoon. “I want to be a social worker,” Mateo replied without hesitation. “I want to help other children like Mr. Carlos Javier helped us.”
And you, okay, I still want to be a teacher, but now I also want to be an adoptive mother. Like Mr. Carlos Javier is our adoptive father. The children’s conversations always moved Carlos Javier. They had transformed their difficult experiences into motivation to help others. One day, Carlos Javier received an unexpected visit at the office.
It was a government social worker, Dr. Sofia Ramirez. “Mr. Mendoza, we’ve received some reports about your family situation. I need to make a home visit.” “What kind of reports?” Carlos Javier asked, worried. “People are reporting that you have several street children living in your house.”
It’s my duty to check if they’re being well cared for. Of course. When would you like to visit? This afternoon, if possible. Without prior notice is best to assess the actual conditions. Carlos Javier called home immediately, informing Doña Guadalupe about the visit. He wasn’t worried about the children’s well-being.
She knew they were happy and healthy, but she feared the bureaucracy that might separate them from the family they had built. Dr. Sofia arrived at the house at 3 p.m. She was a woman in her forties with a serious expression and a folder full of forms. “Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Sofia Ramirez, a social worker. I’ve come to assess the situation of the children who live here.”
Please come in. Carlos Javier greeted her in the living room. The children were all at home doing homework or playing in the yard. When they saw the social worker, they became visibly nervous. “Don’t worry, Dr. Sofía,” she said gently, noticing their attention. “I just came to see how you are.” We’re fine.
Daniela answered for everyone, but her demeanor was defensive. For the next two hours, Dr. Sofía spoke individually with each child, inspected the house, examined the rooms, and talked at length with Doña Guadalupe and Carlos Javier. The children seem to be well cared for, she finally admitted, well fed, well dressed, and attending school.
But Carlos Javier sensed there was some doubt, but the situation is irregular. You don’t have official custody of any of them. Technically, they should be in official shelters while the adoption processes are resolved. What if they don’t want to go to shelters? Fernanda asked.
Unfortunately, the children’s wishes aren’t always the deciding factor in these matters. Doctor, Mateo went ahead. Can I speak with you? Of course, son. My sister and I went through three different shelters before ending up on the street. Some caregivers were good, but most were only there for the paycheck.
Here, for the first time, we truly feel at home. I understand, Mateo, but there are rules, and rules are more important than people. Daniela interrupted. Dr. Sofia sighed. Look, I understand the situation, and I can see that you are happy here. I will write a positive report and try to expedite the legal adoption process, but you may have to go through some temporary shelters.
Meanwhile, for how long? Valeria asked, her voice trembling. It could be weeks, it could be months. The silence that followed was heavy. All the children looked at Carlos Javier, hoping he had some magic solution. “Dr. Sofía,” Carlos Javier finally said, “is there any way to expedite this process? Any way to keep the children here while we sort out the paperwork?” “There is, but it would require a court order, and judges generally prefer to follow standard procedures.”
And if I can get a lawyer specializing in children’s and adolescents’ rights, it would help, but it doesn’t guarantee anything. That night, after Dr. Sofía left, the family gathered in the living room to talk about the situation. “I’m not going to any shelter,” Daniela said categorically. “I’d rather go back to the streets.”
No one is going back to the streets. Carlos Javier said firmly. I’m going to hire the best lawyer I can find. We’re going to resolve this legally. And if you can’t, Sebastián asked. I’ll be able to. But what if you can’t? Isabela insisted. Carlos Javier looked at all the children around him. Each one had arrived there by a different path, but they were all united now by the fear of being separated.
If I can’t resolve this through the law, we’ll have to find another way. What other way? Mateo asked. I don’t know yet, but one thing I guarantee you. I’m not going to let them separate us. We’re a family now, and a family protects itself. Fernanda stood up and hugged her father. I love you, Dad. I love you too, Fer. And I love all of you.
One by one, all the children joined in the collective embrace. It was a moment of unity that strengthened everyone’s determination to fight together, regardless of the obstacles that might come. The next day, Carlos Javier hired Dr. Antonio Vargas, a renowned lawyer specializing in children’s and adolescents’ law. Dr.
Antonio had a reputation for securing adoption approvals in complex cases. The situation is delicate. Dr. Antonio explained after reviewing all the documents, “You’re essentially asking to adopt five children at once, even though you haven’t met three of them in a year. Is that impossible?” “It’s not impossible, but it’s very unusual.”
The judges will want to be sure this isn’t just an emotional impulse that could have negative consequences for the children. What can I do to prove I’m serious? First, we’ll prepare a comprehensive dossier on your financial capacity to care for five children.
Second, we’re going to get psychological reports on everyone, including you. Third, we’re going to document the children’s academic and emotional progress since they’ve been in your care. How long will this take? If all goes well, three to six months. And if it doesn’t, it could take years, or it might never happen. Carlos Javier swallowed hard.
The idea of the children spending years in shelters, or worse, of never being officially adopted, was unbearable. Dr. Antonio, speak honestly with me. What are our chances? Considering you’re single, over 40, and want to adopt five children at once, some of them teenagers. Realistically, 30%.
These were odds Carlos Javier didn’t like to hear, but it was better to know the truth. So, let’s work to improve those odds. In the following weeks, the house was transformed into a hub of legal activity. Psychologists came to interview all the children.
Social workers made multiple visits. Carlos Javier underwent detailed psychiatric evaluations. The process was stressful for everyone, especially the children, who feared that any wrong answer could separate them from the family. “Why so many questions? Why do people always come and ask us questions?” Valeria asked one night after a particularly long session with a psychologist.
“Because the adults want to make sure you’re happy here,” Carlos Javier explained. “But we already said we’re happy. Why don’t you believe us? Because sometimes adults hurt children, and other people want to protect them from that. But you would never hurt us,” Mateo said with conviction.
I know it, and you know it. But people who don’t know us need proof. The process revealed some problems that needed addressing. Daniela was still having nightmares about past traumas. Sebastián had learning difficulties that required special support.
Isabela showed separation anxiety whenever Carlos Javier left the house, but she also revealed impressive progress. All the children had gained weight and height since arriving. Their school performance was steadily improving, and, most importantly, they demonstrated strong emotional bonds with each other and with Carlos Javier and Fernanda. “The children clearly love them and feel safe here,” commented psychologist Dr. Patricia Reyes after her evaluations.
“I rarely see such strong bonds in such a short time. And does that help our case?” Carlos Javier asked. “It helps a lot, but they know there are other families interested in adopting some of these children individually.” Carlos Javier felt his stomach clench. How so? Mateo and Valeria are biological siblings, so they would probably stay together.
But Daniela, Sebastián, and Isabela—there are families who would like to adopt each of them separately. And if they don’t want to be separated, the children’s opinion is considered, but it’s not decisive, especially with Daniela, who is already 15. Some judges think that teenagers are more difficult to place with families. That’s absurd.
It may sound absurd, but it’s the reality of the system. That night, Carlos Javier met with the children to talk honestly about the situation. “You need to know that there’s a possibility they’ll separate us,” he said bluntly. “What?” Daniela jumped up. “You promised that wouldn’t happen, and I’m going to keep my promise, but you need to know that we might have to fight harder than we expected.”
“How are we going to fight?” Sebastian asked. “We’re going to show everyone that you’re stronger together, that you’re truly a family.” “How?” Carlos Javier had thought about it a lot. “Do you agree to help other children the way you were helped?” “What do you mean?” Mateo asked. “I mean, to create an official project, an organization that helps street children find families or reintegrate with their biological families, with you as founders along with me.”
“Will people take us seriously?” Daniela asked. “They’ll take you more seriously than me. You know what life is like on the streets. You know what those children really need.” The idea cheered all the children. Finally, they would have a concrete way to give back the help they had received. “How are we going to do that?” Isabela asked.
First, we’re going to officially register an NGO. Then we’ll start small, helping Daniela’s group at the Buenavista station find shelters or families. If we can show results, we’ll have credibility for larger projects. And that will help with our adoption. It will show that you’re not just children who need help, you’re young citizens who contribute to society.
It’s much harder to separate a family that’s making a difference in the community. In the following weeks, they worked intensely on creating the NGO Extended Family. Carlos Javier used his business connections to expedite the legal process. The children created a simple website and began mapping all the street children they knew in the central region of Mexico City.
The first case they took on was that of a 12-year-old boy named Alejandro, who had been living alone under a bridge for six months. Daniela knew him and knew he had run away from home because of abuse. Alejandro isn’t going back to his biological family, Daniela explained, but he’s intelligent and affectionate.
He just needs a chance. Carlos Javier obtained a list of pre-approved adoption families waiting for children through Dr. Antonio Vargas. After several interviews and visits, Alejandro was placed with a family in Condesa. “It worked,” Valeria celebrated when they learned that Alejandro was settling in well with his new family.
“This is just the beginning,” Mateo said. “We have a list of 20 children who need help.” News of the NGO spread quickly. Local newspapers ran stories about the family that had formed to help other families form. Social media shared the story of Carlos Javier and the five children.
Mr. Mendoza’s secretary, Adriana, called one morning. “There are journalists who want to interview you about the NGO.” “What kind of journalists?” “Proceso magazine, El Universal, Televisa.” It seems the story is attracting national attention. Carlos Javier hesitated. The media attention could help the NGO, but it could also complicate the adoption process.
I’ll think about it and let you know. I spoke with Dr. Antonio Vargas about the situation. It could be risky, the lawyer admitted. But it could also be our best strategy. If public opinion is on our side, it will be more difficult for any judge to separate them. So, we agreed to the interviews. Let’s accept, but with caution.
No unnecessary drama. Focus on the NGO and the results they’re achieving. The first interview was for a local television program. The interviewer, José Luis, was known for being direct and sometimes aggressive. Mr. Carlos Javier, some critics say you’re using these children to assuage your conscience as an absent father.
What’s your response to that? Before Carlos Javier could answer, Daniela spoke up. “Can I answer?” she asked politely. “Of course. I lived on the streets for two years. I went through three different shelters. I met many families who wanted to adopt me just to feel good about themselves. And I can assure you, this man isn’t doing this for himself, he’s doing it for us.”
How can you be sure? Because she cried when she found out I was having nightmares. Because she wakes up in the middle of the night when Valeria is scared. Because she canceled important meetings to go to the PTA meeting at our school. People who want to clear their conscience don’t do things like that. Daniela’s answer was so sincere and moving that the interviewer was visibly touched.
The rest of the interview focused on the NGO’s work and future plans. After the program aired, the extended family’s phone didn’t stop ringing. Families wanting to adopt, people offering donations, other organizations proposing partnerships. “We didn’t expect it to grow so fast,” Fernanda commented, organizing the piles of correspondence that arrived daily.
“Rapid growth is good, but it can be dangerous,” Carlos Javier observed. “We need to make sure we can maintain the quality of our work.” It was then that they received an unexpected call. It was from Ana María Flores, a judge in the juvenile and family court. “Mr. Mendoza, I have followed your work through the media.”
I would like to discuss the adoption process and perhaps a formal partnership between Extended Family and the Court. It would be an honor, Dr. Ana María. Excellent. May I visit you next week? The judge’s visit was crucial for the future of the family and the NGO.
Carlos Javier and the children prepared intensely, organizing reports on all the cases they had handled and preparing presentations on their working methods. “What if she decides to separate us anyway?” Sister Isabela asked the day before the visit. “Then we’ll go to plan B,” Carlos Javier replied.
What’s Plan B? I’m still thinking about Plan B. The answer drew laughter from everyone, easing the tension a bit. Dr. Ana María arrived one Saturday morning. She was a woman in her fifties, with thinning hair, a serious demeanor, but kind eyes. “Good morning, Flores family,” she said upon arriving, using the surname that Carlos Javier had suggested they all adopt.
“Good morning, Doctor,” they responded in unison. For three hours, Dr. Ana María spoke with each of them individually, observed the family dynamics, and analyzed the NGO’s work in detail. “Impressive,” she finally said when everyone gathered in the room. In six months, they have placed 15 children with adoptive families, and all are settling in well.
“It’s teamwork,” Mateo replied. “Each of us contributes what we do best.” “And what do you do best?” “Understanding what these children need,” Daniela answered, “because we’ve been through the same things they have.” “And you, Mr. Carlos Javier, what is your contribution?” “Resources, contacts, and a great desire to learn,” Carlos Javier answered honestly. “And love, lots of love.”
Dr. Ana María smiled for the first time since she arrived. “You know that what you’re trying to do is almost impossible, right? Multiple adoptions with these characteristics are rarely approved.” “We know,” Fernanda replied, “but we also know that ‘impossible’ is just a word adults use when they don’t want to try.”
“Well said,” laughed Dr. Ana María. “Very well, I’m going to make you a proposal.” They all leaned forward, eager. “I’m going to approve the adoption.” “All at the same time.” There was complete silence for a few seconds. Then Valeria shouted, “We did it!” And all the children began to jump and hug each other at the same time.
“But,” continued Dr. Ana María, calming everyone down with a condition. “What condition?” asked Carlos Javier, worried. “You will become an official court-appointed foster family. You will take in children temporarily while we find suitable families for them, and you will train other families interested in multiple adoptions.”
“Does that mean we’re going to have more children here?” Sebastián asked. “Does it mean you’re going to become a role model for other families and that you’re going to help many more children than you already are?” “I accept?” Carlos Javier said without hesitation. “Dad,” Daniela called, “can I speak with you privately?” They went out to the patio while the others continued celebrating with Dr. Ana María.
What’s wrong, Daniela? I want to thank you for everything, but mainly for never trying to change me. Why would I try to change you? You’re perfect just the way you are. I’m not perfect. I’m complicated, stubborn, distrustful. You’re human, Carlos Javier interrupted. And you’re my daughter, and I love you exactly as you are.
Daniela, who had always been the most emotionally reserved, finally cried in Carlos Javier’s arms. “I love you too, Dad.” It was the first time she had called him Dad. Six months later, the extended family had become a national leader in adoption and family reunification. The house in Coyoacán was expanded again to temporarily house up to 10 children.
Carlos Javier had drastically reduced his involvement in the company, maintaining only essential activities. He had discovered that his true calling was caring for people, not businesses. “Dad,” Fernanda said one night as they reviewed the NGO’s pending cases.
“Do you regret anything? What?” “Changing my life so drastically, giving up the businesses, the mansion, everything.” Carlos Javier looked around the living room, where Mateo was helping Sebastián with math. Valeria was teaching Isabela how to make bracelets, and Daniela was organizing documents for new cases. “Fer, I spent 40 years of my life accumulating things I thought would make me happy, and I spent the last two years learning that happiness isn’t something you accumulate, it’s something you share.”
So, you don’t regret it? I only regret one thing: taking so long to understand. On the first anniversary of the adoptions being finalized, they organized a party at the house. They invited all the families they had helped to create, all the professionals who had worked with them, and Dr. Ana María Flores, who had become almost like a grandmother to the children.
Hey, Mateo was quite the character at the party. Can I say something? Sure, Mate. Two years ago, I was a street kid who didn’t know if I’d have food the next day. Today, I’m a student at one of the best schools in Mexico City. I have a family that loves me, and I’m helping other kids find families too.
“So what’s the point?” Daniela teased affectionately. “The point is that this was only possible because a man decided to believe a boy who offered to exchange information for food, and because a girl decided to share her father instead of being jealous. And because a housekeeper decided to treat street children like her own grandchildren,” Valeria added, “and because a social worker decided to take a chance on an unusual family.”
Sebastián added, “And why did we all decide that family isn’t about blood?” Isabela concluded, “It’s about love and choice.” Carlos Javier Mendoza looked at all the people gathered in his house. His family had grown far beyond what he had ever imagined possible. There were children who were technically his own, others who were temporary, professionals who became friends, and friends who became family.
“May I make a toast?” he asked. Everyone raised their glasses of soda or juice. “To the family we chose, to the family we built, and to the family we are yet to create, to the proof that love multiplies when it is shared. To family!” they all shouted in unison. Later, when the party was over and the children had gone to bed, Carlos Javier sat on the patio with a cup of coffee. Doña Guadalupe joined him.
Tired, Mr. Carlos Javier. Tired, but happy. I knew that before all this I suffered from insomnia. I spent hours awake thinking about work problems. And now, now I sleep like a log because I know I wake up in the morning to a life worth living. And what do you plan to do from now on? Carlos Javier looked toward the house where he could hear the soft noise of the children talking in their rooms before going to sleep. Continue.
To help more families form. Maybe write a book about our experience, and mainly be the best father I can be. I think I already am, Mr. Carlos Javier. I still have a lot to learn, Guadalupe, but for the first time in my life, I’m eager to learn. The following year, the extended family opened a second home in Querétaro and began training families throughout the state of Mexico.
Carlos Javier launched a book called The Family We Chose, which became a bestseller and generated significant funds for the NGO. Mateo, now 15, had become a sought-after speaker at children’s rights conferences. Daniela was finishing high school and had been accepted to three different universities to study psychology.
“Dad,” she said when she received the acceptance letter from UNAM. “Can I ask you a question?” “Always, Daniela.” “Do you really think I’m going to be a good psychologist?” “I think you’re going to be an excellent psychologist. You understand human pain in a way that books don’t teach, and more importantly, you know how to transform pain into strength.”
And if I fail, then you try again. That’s what families do. They give you support so you can try, fail, learn, and try again, even if it takes me longer than others to graduate. Daniela, you’ve already faced more challenges at 16 than many people do in their entire lives. If anyone deserves time to find their way, it’s you.
On Daniela’s high school graduation day, Carlos Javier looked at his family in the stands: Fernanda, now 17 and student body president; Mateo and Sebastián, both with excellent grades and leaders in the school’s social projects; and Valeria and Isabela, still young, but already showing strong personalities and ambitious dreams.
What are you thinking about? Doña Guadalupe, who was sitting next to him, asked, “I’m thinking that if someone had told me three years ago that my life would be like this, I would have thought it was crazy? And now, now I think it was the wisest thing I’ve ever done.” End of story. Now tell me, what did you think of this story? Do you think love can really transform lives like this? Let us know in the comments which part moved you the most and if you know of any similar stories in real life. Your like and your subscription
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