Let me ask you a question, what is the earliest childhood memory you have? Think back, is it the loving embrace of a mother? Perhaps it is of a day at the park with siblings. The reason I ask is I have no such memories. You see my name according to the nuns is Mary Sue Poots, but you can call me Skye, I'm an Orphan and this is the story of how I found my family.
My earliest memory is from a random Tuesday morning at the St Agnes Orphanage, all I really remember was I had been sent back again and hadn't had breakfast again not even the bland porridge they normally served for breakfast at the orphanage. From memory I think I was maybe three at the time. The only issue is it's a little hard to tell what age you are when you don't know your own birthday, but that sort of thing happens when you are left at the door of an orphanage during the biggest storm of the year with nothing but a small blanket with clouds on it and a cardboard box with a note saying 'Take care of her'. The sister that found me was amazed that I had survived so long in that weather as it was.
Now some of you might think being raised by nuns doesn't seem so bad, surely they at least looked after you' but you couldn't be more wrong those were some of the worst years of my life. The nuns didn't care what happened to the children as long as we were there at the end of the month so they could collect their check. Routinely there were beatings dished out to the younger children by the older ones to 'Toughen Us Up' you early on learnt to say nothing to the nuns as it never helped and god forbid you required a trip to the hospital. The worst part was when you told the doctors at the hospital what was happening they never believed you, I mean after all what sort of nun lies.
Over the years I grew older and many things changed for me but one thing remained the same, no matter who and no matter how well I fit in no one ever wanted to adopt me, so time and again I returned to the orphanage. Eventually I gave up hope of ever finding a family.
On my twelfth birthday I had decided enough was enough and I ran away from the orphanage for 12 months I lived on the streets and did odd jobs I had always been smart and it served me well, I was able to find odd jobs in order to feed myself until one day about a year later I ran into a Cop whilst I was sleeping below an overpass, he dragged me back to the orphanage. When I got back the nuns were furious, they had gotten in trouble for losing me and so they decided I needed 2 weeks of re-education, so for the next two weeks I was locked in a small room and given nothing but bread and water as well as daily canings. The day of my release finally came and I was allowed to re-join the general population of the orphanage under the watchful eyes of the nuns. In the past 2 weeks the little muscle and fat I had built up during my time on the streets had been lost and I appeared even more emaciated than I had before. To this day I don't know what caused my luck to change be it fate or something else, but something amazing happened. Someone actually noticed me, she was a young nurse couldn't have been more than 25 but for some reason she was visiting the orphanage that day and she happened to recognise me I don't know if it was from one of my various hospital visits or my time on the streets but the look of horror that appeared on her face, as she paused and really took in her surroundings.
Several days later during midmorning the orphanage was flooded by men in dark suits from something called CPS, I felt the overwhelming urge to run but found my feet wouldn't obey me and I remained stuck to the floor. As I stood there I watched the nuns being led away in handcuffs as they scowled at the children, eventually the men returned and started herding the children into buses that were to take us to the hospital.
When we arrived at the hospital we found a number of doctors and nurses waiting for us and unlike the doctors and nurses the nuns had taken us to these ones actually seemed to care about what had happened to us, they asked all sorts of questions about who we were and how we had gotten there, about how we got our injuries and about what the orphanage was like. Some of us, those who either didn't remember their parents or who never knew them at all had blood taken to do a DNA test, our DNA was to be tested against the database of all missing children and against all accessible databases to see if they could find our parents. Now as I mentioned earlier I have always been considered a smart child but even then I couldn't figure out how doing this could possibly help, we were orphans after all, that means our parents are dead. What does it matter if we are related to someone if they were dead needless to say I didn't expect much to come of it, so I was surprised when less than a week later I got a letter.
It wasn't long but it was more than I had ever wished for, the cursive script read
Daisy or should I say Skye
I got the happiest news today when I heard they had finally found you, we need to meet. Enclosed you will find a plane ticket for three days from now, we will meet you as soon as you land
Love Mum and Dad
In that moment I felt my entire world change I had parents, and they wanted to meet me, it was amazing. The next few days I spent preparing to leave the only live I had ever known behind, honestly it terrified me a little, I mean what if I met my parents and they didn't like me, what if they sent me back, I didn't know if I could handle that. Finally, the day came where I was to step on that plane and go meet my parents, one of the men from the orphanage was coming with me to 'ensure that I got there ok' when I got on the plane I was surprised to find that we were the only passengers aboard, honestly this all seemed surreal to me.
Several hours later we landed at LAX and taxied into a private debarkation area, as we rolled towards the steps I noticed a single car with a man and woman standing nearby. When the plane finally came to a stop I got up and moved to the door, walking down the stairs I notice the man and woman had moved, the man stood tall in a sharp suit while a shorter red-haired woman stood beside him, it takes me a moment but eventually I recognise them, Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark, my parents were two Avengers. At this point my brain began to overload, OH MY GOD IRON MAN AND BLACK WIDOW ARE MY PARENTS, THERES NO WAY, MY EYES MUST BE PLAYING TRICKS ON ME. As I reach the foot of the stairs I stand there utterly Dumbstruck. Then I see that Natasha has unshed tears in her eyes as she whispers in Russian "Daisy my poor, poor baby it's really you" before she suddenly rushes over enveloping me in a hug before I can react, a wall of images and feelings suddenly assail my mind, memories of Natasha and Tony holding me as a baby, of Natasha singing me lullaby's in Russian, of a day spent on the beach whilst under their watchful eye and of playing in my father's workshop under the watchful eye of Jarvis as Tony worked on his latest invention. Suddenly it all becomes too much and I start to pass out the last thing I remember is falling into Natasha's arms and saying "Mama"