My name is Matteo, and this is how I survived being abandoned by my own mother.
As a child, my family seemed simple and beautiful, like a little cocoon woven with laughter, the smell of food, and tender touches. My father, Lorenzo, ran a small garage in the peaceful Tuscan village of Borgo San Vito, while my mother, Clara, stayed home to care for me. We were a close-knit trio, and in my child’s eyes, nothing could ever break that harmony.
But life, sometimes, shatters like a fragile glass. My father lost his job, and everything changed. The laughter faded. Silence crept in, like a gray dust settling in every corner of the house. Money slowly disappeared, and arguments erupted like summer storms—sudden and violent. Shouting, slammed doors, broken objects… I would hide under my blanket, praying it would all stop.
Then, one evening, the truth came crashing down: my father discovered that my mother was seeing another man. That was the breaking point. He left, brokenhearted, leaving me alone with her. I was devastated. I wanted nothing more than to see him again, but when I begged my mother, all she could respond with was anger:
— “He’s the coward, Matteo! He left us!”
I didn’t understand. I didn’t want to understand. I wanted my father back.
Then, one morning, she came to me with a smile I hadn’t seen in a long time.
— “Pack your things, my treasure. We’re going to the sea!”
My heart soared. She shoved a few clothes into an old suitcase. I wanted to bring my toys, but she promised we’d buy new ones.
We took a creaky bus, then another. I watched the landscape pass by, my mind filled with thoughts of warm sand and waves. We got off in front of a run-down building.
— “Wait for me on this bench, Matteo. I’m going to get an ice cream. Don’t move.”
And I watched her walk away.
I waited. An hour passed. Then another. The sun dipped behind the rooftops, and the cold settled in. Lights flickered on in the unfamiliar apartments. But no ice cream. No mom. Just the wind and my growing fear. I called out, shouting for her. No response. I curled up, crying until I fell asleep.
I woke up in a bed. A real, warm, clean bed. And in front of me… my father.
— “Dad! Mom went to get an ice cream, she’s disappeared! Where is she?”
He sat beside me, his face shattered.
— “She left you, Matteo. She’s not coming back.”
No. No, that couldn’t be. A mother doesn’t do that. A mother doesn’t leave her child. I screamed, cried, begged. But there was nothing more to say.
My father took me in. He was living in Positano now, by the sea, and sharing his life with Giulia, a gentle and quiet woman. At first, I kept my distance, my heart full of distrust. But she was patient, always there. And one day, without realizing it, I called her “mom.”
I grew up in this new, peaceful home. Giulia gave me a little sister, Sofia, and together, we learned how to laugh again. The past didn’t erase itself, but it became lighter.
Years later, as an adult, I had found a job, an apartment, and a stable life. Then, one stormy night, I saw a figure sitting on a bench just outside my building.
— “Matteo…”
I froze.
It was her. My mother. Older, thinner, but her eyes were the same.
— “It’s me… your mom.”
I stayed silent. She reached out her trembling hand.
— “I’m sorry. I was lost. Can we talk?”
I stepped back, my heart pounding.
I called my father. Giulia came too. They stood beside me, strong.
— “It’s your choice, Matteo,” my father said. “The decision is yours.”
I looked at her. This woman who had abandoned me to escape her mistakes.
— “You’re not my mother. My real mother is the one who dried my tears, who listened as I grew up. The one who never left me.”
She burst into tears. I felt a pang in my heart, but I didn’t flinch.
— “Get out of my life. Never come back.”
She left. Slowly. And I watched her fade into the night.
Then I turned to those who had always been there. I held them tightly.
— “Thank you. Thank you for all the love, the patience, the courage. I love you.”
That’s what true family is. The ones who stay, even when everything falls apart.