He looked at the chair beside mine and asked whether he could sit.

I nodded.

He lowered himself carefully, relying on the cane.

Up close, he looked tired in a way photographs had never shown.

He offered his hand, palm open, without touching me.

“For twenty-four years,” he said softly, “I have been trying to find you.”

I held my belly more tightly.

“I am so sorry it took me this long, my little bird.”