even let me hold him.My mother came in, calm and composed, and said,”He didn’t survive.”That’s all I have.No explanation.No proof.No chance to say goodbye.I was told to move on and sent off to college before I could process what had happened. You don’t forget something like that; you just learn to live with it.Twenty-one years have passed.Yesterday morning, I was outside when a moving truck pulled up beside me.And then I saw him.Dark curls.Sharp features.My chin.My heart nearly stopped.“Hi, I’m Miles,” he said with an easy smile
I had a baby at 17, and my parents took him away. Twenty-one years later, my new neighbor looked exactly like him.I’m 38 now
