“Yes.”

My eyes filled.

I had heard explanations for why people could not keep me, why an address had changed, why I needed to pack.

I had never heard anyone say they had spent my whole life trying to find me.

He did not demand that I call him Dad.

He did not ask me to be grateful for being wealthy rather than merely found.

He told me the records were available when I wanted to see them and that I could bring someone I trusted to those conversations.