When the Eight-Year-Old Boy We Were Adopting Came Home With Everything He Owned in a Black Bag—Then My Missing Brother’s Watch Fell Onto His Bed
The truth was that I wanted the bag gone before Oliver saw his entire history sitting on a brand-new bed.
I placed it on the comforter.
Untied the knot.
Two faded jeans fell out.
Several oversized T-shirts.
Mismatched socks.
An old sweatshirt.
A paperback missing its cover.