“In the photo album. The one you tucked away.”

She shut her eyes for a brief moment, as if she’d been preparing for this confrontation for fourteen long years.

“Go finish your homework upstairs, sweetheart,” Meredith told my brother gently. “I’ll come up soon.”

He gathered his things and left.

When we were alone, I swallowed hard and began reading the letter out loud.

“My sweet girl, if you’re old enough to read this, then you’re old enough to know your beginnings. I never want your story to exist only in my head. Memories fade. Paper stays.”

“The day you were born was the most beautiful and the most painful day of my life. Your biological mom was braver than I’ve ever been. She held you for just a moment. She kissed your forehead and said, ‘She has your eyes.’

I didn’t realize then that I would need to be enough for both of us.”

“For a while, it was just you and me. I worried every day that I wasn’t getting it right.

Then Meredith came into our lives. I wonder if you remember that first drawing you gave her. I hope you do. She carried it in her purse for weeks. She still keeps it.”