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

I no longer took it out to wonder whether Maya had my eyes or Caleb had my smile.

I knew their voices, the stories they preferred, the way Maya lined up her animals and the way Caleb insisted that trains needed bridges.

I had once asked Raymond to find out how my ex-wife was doing, as though her entire life could be summarized in an address and a job title.

Now, when I wanted to know how Savannah was doing, I asked her myself.

And for once, I stayed long enough to listen.