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

Not in some display case.

Into the drawer where we kept tax papers, spare batteries, passports, and things too important to lose.

Life had trained me out of shrines.

EPILOGUE — WHAT FELL OUT OF THE BAG

For years, people who heard our story wanted to call it destiny.

I understand why.

An eight-year-old boy enters foster care after both parents die.

A couple spends years trying to adopt.