One of My Triplet Sons Died Shortly After Birth — Then, on Their 18th Birthday, I Found a Gift Box on My Doorstep Labeled “Happy Birthday, Brothers.”

I looked at him at every stop sign as if the light might take him.

He looked at house numbers as if he had memorized them from the sidewalk.

“Do they know anything?” he asked.

“They know they had a brother.

They know a date we treat like glass.

They do not know the glass was a window.”