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.”

“We don’t.

We do tomorrow morning.

Then the next.”

I slept three hours and woke sure the diner had been a dream until I heard a third set of footsteps toward the bathroom.

At dawn, three young men argued about coffee strength.

I cried into the dish towel because the sound was crowded in the right way.