Sometimes, the truth is so painful that we refuse to believe it. That was what happened to Carly Dingles.
When Carly was five years old, her mother took her for a drive in her big, shiny red car. Carly loved riding in that car, watching the world zoom by. But that day, they drove much farther than usual. The familiar streets disappeared, replaced by long, winding roads and endless fields of green. Carly pressed her tiny hands against the window, staring wide-eyed at the tall trees and the bright blue sky.
Eventually, they arrived at a big white church standing alone in a field. Carly turned to her mother, confused. “Where are we, Mama?” she asked.
Her mother gave her a soft smile, but her eyes looked sad. She reached over, tucking a strand of Carly’s dark hair behind her ear. “Carly, honey, you wait right here, baby. Momma’s gonna be right back, okay?” she said.
Then, her mother kissed her gently on the cheek, the familiar sound of her many bracelets jingling as she pulled away. Carly watched as she climbed back into the car. Her mother’s golden hair flowed behind her like a flag in the wind. She waved one last time, her hand covered in those shiny bracelets, and then she drove off.
Carly sat on the church steps, watching the car shrink into the distance until it was nothing more than a tiny red dot on the horizon. She waited. She swung her legs and hummed a little song. She picked at the laces of her shoes. But her mother didn’t come back.
She kept waiting, even when the sun climbed high into the sky. Her stomach rumbled, her throat felt dry, and her arms and legs were starting to feel heavy from the heat. But still, no one came.
Then, just as Carly was about to cry, she heard a voice.
“Child! What are you doing here in the sun all by yourself?”
A kind-looking woman with dark skin and bright, curious eyes was walking toward her, carrying a bundle of beautiful flowers. Carly blinked up at her.
“I’m waiting for my mom,” Carly explained. “She said she’d be right back.”
The woman frowned, setting down her flowers. “Oh, sweet girl,” she muttered, pressing a warm hand to Carly’s forehead. “It’s too hot for you to be out here like this. Let’s get you some water.”
The woman hurried away and returned with a bottle of water and some peaches. “Now you sit in the shade, alright? Eat this and drink up,” she said gently. “I’ll be right back.”
Carly took a sip of the water. It was cold and refreshing. She bit into a peach, the sweet juice dripping down her chin. But still, she kept glancing at the road, waiting.
A few minutes later, the woman returned with a tall man dressed in black. Carly thought he looked like he was wearing a dress, but he later told her he was a priest. The woman and the priest spoke in hushed, serious tones, sometimes glancing over at Carly. Then, the woman pulled out a phone and made a call.
It was nearly dark when a thin woman arrived with a police officer. Carly didn’t understand what was happening. She kept telling them that she had to stay. “My mom is coming back!” she insisted. “I have to wait for her!”
But no one listened.
They took her to an orphanage. Carly had never felt so angry in her life. She refused to talk to the other children, convinced that she didn’t belong there. “I’m not an orphan!” she would shout. “My mom is coming back for me!”
But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Carly started to realize that maybe… just maybe… she wasn’t coming back.
Most of the kids at the orphanage avoided Carly. They whispered about how mean and bitter she was. But there was one boy who never seemed afraid of her. His name was Peter. He was pale and small, with a heart condition that kept him from running or playing like the others.
Peter loved making paper planes. He’d sit on the stairs, folding them carefully before sending them soaring through the air. One day, Carly sat on the bottom step, crying quietly, when a paper plane landed right at her feet. She picked it up and saw something written on the wing: “You’re gonna be alright.”
She looked up, surprised, and saw Peter smiling at her from the top of the stairs.
“Did you make this?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Peter said. “I can’t run, so I make things that can fly.”
Carly walked up the stairs and handed the plane back to him. From that day on, Peter became her best—her only—friend. Whenever she was sad, a paper plane would magically appear, reminding her that she wasn’t alone.
The years passed. When Carly turned seventeen, she made a decision. “As soon as I turn eighteen, I’m leaving,” she told Peter. “I’m going to find my mom.”
The orphanage director tried to convince her otherwise. “Carly, you have a scholarship, a future,” she said kindly. “You should focus on that.”
“No!” Carly shouted. “I know my mother is looking for me too! She came back to that church, and I was gone! It’s all your fault!”
Angry and upset, she ran outside. Moments later, a paper plane landed on her lap. Without thinking, she crushed it in her fist. “STOP IT!” she yelled. “Your stupid planes don’t help me, Peter! I HATE THEM! I HATE YOU!”
She regretted it almost instantly. But she was too ashamed to apologize, and Peter didn’t come looking for her. Three days later, she left without saying goodbye.
For two years, Carly traveled across the country, searching for her mother. Finally, she found her in a run-down trailer park in St. Louis, Missouri.
She knocked on the door, her heart pounding. A woman opened it, but she wasn’t the beautiful, golden-haired mother Carly remembered. This woman was older, her hair stiff and brittle, her eyes tired.
“Yes?” she asked. “Who are you? I’m not buying anything.”
Carly swallowed hard. “Mom? It’s me… Carly.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “Carly? Well, I’ll be… What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’ve been looking for you,” Carly said, her voice trembling. “I know you came back for me, but I was gone—”
Her mother let out a harsh laugh. “Came back? Sweetheart, I left that town by sunset! Had a new man in my life. He didn’t want no other man’s kid hangin’ around.”
Carly felt her stomach drop. “You left me?” she whispered. “You abandoned a five-year-old outside a church?”
Her mother shrugged. “Ain’t they always saying kids are God’s gift? I just gave you right back.”
Carly turned and ran. Three days later, she found herself back at the orphanage.
“I was hoping to see Peter,” she said.
The director’s face fell. “Oh, Carly… I’m so sorry. Peter’s heart gave out just weeks after you left.”
Carly walked outside, tears streaming down her face. She had spent years chasing a fantasy, searching for a mother who never wanted her, when all along, someone who truly loved her had been right there.
A gentle breeze rustled the trees. Then, as if by magic, a golden-yellow leaf floated down and landed on her lap—shaped exactly like one of Peter’s paper planes.
Maybe it was just the wind. Or maybe… it was Peter’s way of telling her that everything would be alright.
And for the first time, Carly believed it.
