By the time my son turned eighteen, I thought I understood him—the quiet pauses, the hesitation before joy, the careful way he moved through life. But that morning, he sat across from me and said he had carried something alone since he was seven. I realized then that even love doesn’t always reach every hidden place in a child’s heart.
I met Mike when he was seven, already convinced no one would choose him. “I know you’re not going to take me,” he said the first day. But I did. From that moment, he was my son. Still, even as he grew, there was always a shadow—he apologized too quickly, feared good moments wouldn’t last. I didn’t yet know why.....
