The Photograph That Led Me to My Twins—and the Letters My Mother Hid for Three Years

“Not because I hoped you’d return to me.

Because I wanted the children to know I gave you a chance to respond.”

I thought of our divorce hearing, where I sat beside my attorneys while Savannah sat alone.

I had called the outcome efficient.

She had called it freedom.

“Do you know who handled the letters?” she asked.

“An assistant named Clara Miller.

She worked for my mother before she worked for me.”