I keep it next to my mother’s green-taped note and Oliver’s first hospital bracelet.

Three pieces of paper from three very different chapters of my life.

On the first anniversary of the emergency, Warren came to my house with flowers for Evelyn’s photograph.

We sat on the porch while Oliver chased fallen leaves across the grass, wobbling on legs that had once seemed impossibly small.

“Do you regret finding me?” I asked him.

He looked genuinely astonished.

“Not for a moment.”