I became a mother at seventeen—and my parents took my baby from me. Now, twenty-one years later, the man living next door looks exactly like the child I lost.

My father moved in with me last year after his health declined. His memory isn’t perfect anymore… but it’s not gone either.

He remembers what he wants to remember.

Last week, a moving truck pulled up next door.

I was outside, pulling weeds, when I saw him—a young man stepping out, holding a lamp.

And everything inside me froze.