“It reminds me that someone was kind during the parts of my life I don’t remember.”

I thought of all the hands that had carried her before ours.

Some had failed her, some had tried, and others had been limited by a system that made simple answers impossible.

Our family’s history had become larger than a question of biology.

It was also a record of care given quietly, sometimes by people who never expected to be remembered.

That night Paige set the picture book beside the rabbit.