The next morning, my son arrived at my door with Amy holding a small drawing in her hands. It was a picture of our family — me, my son, his wife, and Amy — all smiling under a big sun. At the top, she’d written “My Family” in bright pink letters. My son quietly said, “She made this for you.” The little girl looked up at me, her eyes hopeful, and for a moment, I felt something shift inside me. I’d been so focused on bloodlines that I’d forgotten what family truly meant. Later that day, I couldn’t stop thinking...
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