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I was the abandoned one. When I was two years old, my grandmother left me at a train station. I was clutching a piece of paper in my small fist, and the note said: [Nobody wants this child. Whoever finds her can keep her.] I didn't remember that day, but I remember my adoptive mother's face when she told me the story. She cried as she spoke. She looked at me and said, "Emily, you're the treasure I found. But your birth family, they—" She trailed off and couldn't finish. Twenty-three years later, my birth family showed up at my door. They told me they wanted to take me home.