On what I thought was my adopted son Joey’s birthday,
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he stared at the cake and whispered,
“My birthday was yesterday.”
My heart sank. The documents were wrong.
And it was the first time he spoke of his past—his twin brother,
Tommy, and Grandma Vivi,
who used to celebrate their birthdays separately,
That night, Joey showed me a drawing
of a lighthouse, a memory tied to his brother. I knew then:
to move forward, we had to go back.We found the lighthouse.
And Grandma Vivi.At first, she turned us away.
But as we drove off, Tommy came running.
The boys clung to each other like they’d never,
