My adopted son stared at his birthday cake in silence. His eyes shimmered, and then, like raindrops slipping down a window, tears rolled down his cheeks.
“My birthday was yesterday,” he whispered.
My stomach twisted into knots. Yesterday? That couldn’t be right. The adoption documents clearly said today. What else had been hidden from me?
“Do you want a boy or a girl?” they had asked.
“I just want to be a mom.”
That was the only thing I knew for sure. I wasn’t the woman who had dreamed of matching pajamas or making homemade baby food. But I knew I could be the kind of mother who changed someone’s life.
Finally, that someone was Joey.
He didn’t know it yet, though. Each time I visited him at the foster home, he inched closer, his tiny fingers curling into the hem of my sweater, his dark eyes locked onto mine. A silent question: When?
The day I finally took him home, I held out a plush dinosaur—big, soft, with funny little arms. The moment Joey saw it, his fingers twitched, but he didn’t reach for it. Instead, he stared at me, waiting.
“Well, Joey, are you ready to go home?” I asked softly.
He hesitated. “We’re never coming back here?”
“Never. I promise.”
He studied me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he reached for my hand.
“Alright. But so that you know, I don’t eat green beans.”
I bit back a smile. “Noted.”
Just like that, I became a mother. I knew adjusting wouldn’t be easy, but I had no idea how many secrets Joey carried with him.
Joey’s birthday was a week after he moved in. I wanted to make it special—his first birthday in his forever home. Our first real celebration as a family.
I planned everything: balloons, streamers, a mountain of presents—nothing too overwhelming, just enough to show him he was loved.
The day started perfectly. We made pancakes together, and by “made,” I mean we turned the kitchen into an absolute disaster. Flour dusted the floor, and Joey giggled as he smacked a cloud of it into the air, watching it swirl like a snowstorm.
“Are we making pancakes or just redecorating?” I teased.
“Both!” he declared proudly, stirring the batter like a mad scientist.
After breakfast, we moved to presents. Action figures, dinosaur books, a giant toy T-rex—I had carefully chosen each one, picturing his excitement.
But as he unwrapped them, his excitement dimmed. He tried to smile, but something was wrong.
“Do you like them?” I asked.
“Yeah. They’re cool.”
Not the reaction I expected.
And then came the cake. I lit the candle, grinning. “Alright, birthday boy! Time to make a wish!”
Joey didn’t move. He wasn’t smiling. He just stared at the candle, as if it were a flickering memory instead of a celebration.
“Sweetheart?” I nudged the plate toward him. “This is your day. Make a wish.”
His lower lip trembled. His hands curled into fists.
“This isn’t my birthday.”
My breath hitched. “What?”
“My birthday was yesterday.”
“But… the documents say today.”
“They made a mistake. My brother and I always celebrated together. I was born before midnight, so we had two birthdays. That’s what Grandma Vivi said.”
It was the first time he had mentioned his past. The first real glimpse into the life he’d lost. I swallowed and blew out the candle myself before sliding into the chair beside him.
“Your brother?”
Joey traced a circle on the table with his finger. “Yeah. His name is Tommy.”
“I… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, honey.”
His voice was quiet, almost fragile. “I remember our birthdays. The last one, I was four. Then he turned four. Grandma Vivi gave us two separate parties. With friends. And then… they took me away.”
A lump rose in my throat. One year ago. The memory was still fresh. The wound still open.
“I wish I could see him again,” Joey whispered.
I squeezed his hand. “Joey…”
But he pulled away, rubbing his eyes. “I’m kinda tired.”
“Okay. Let’s get some rest.”
I tucked him into bed, but before I left, he reached under his pillow, pulling out a small wooden box.
“My treasure box,” he explained. He carefully opened it and handed me a folded piece of paper. “This is the place. Grandma Vivi always took us here.”
I unfolded it—a simple drawing of a lighthouse.
My breath caught. Instead of just building a future, I realized I had to help Joey heal his past first.
The next day, I searched for that lighthouse. Google flooded me with tourist attractions and abandoned landmarks, but none looked quite right. Then I noticed a single tree standing beside the one in Joey’s drawing.
That was the key.
“That’s it!” I turned the laptop around. “Joey, does this look familiar?”
He leaned in, his fingers brushing the screen. His eyes widened. “That’s the place!”
“Alright, buddy. Let’s go on an adventure.”
We drove to a small coastal town, the scent of salt and fried food filling the air. Joey clutched his drawing the entire ride, tracing the lighthouse lines absently.
When we arrived, I hesitated. “Let’s ask someone.”
Before I could, Joey leaned out the window. “Hi! Do you know where my Grandma Vivi lives?”
A passing woman paused. “Old Vivi? Yellow house near the cliffs. Can’t miss it.”
Joey spun to me, his face alight with hope. “That’s it! That’s where she lives!”
We knocked on the door. An older woman with sharp eyes and silver hair answered. “What do you want?”
“Are you Vivi?” I asked. “My son, Joey… he’s looking for his brother. Tommy.”
Her eyes flickered with something—regret? Pain?
“There are no brothers here.”
Joey stepped forward, holding up his drawing. “Grandma Vivi! I brought Tommy a present!”
Her fingers tightened around her teacup. “You should leave.”
My heart sank. I had brought Joey here only to break his heart.
But then—
“Joey! Joey!”
A boy, identical to Joey, ran toward us.
“Tommy?” Joey whispered.
They collided in a fierce hug. Behind them, Vivi stood in the doorway, her eyes glistening. Then, slowly, she gave a small nod. An invitation.
Over tea, Vivi admitted the truth. “I had to choose. I kept the one who looked like my son… and let the other go.”
Silence stretched between us. Then Joey reached out and placed his small hand over hers.
“It’s okay, Grandma Vivi. I found Mom.”
Her lips trembled. Then, with a shaky breath, she squeezed his hand.
From that moment on, we made a promise: Joey and Tommy would never be separated again. And every weekend, we’d return to the lighthouse—to the home where Grandma Vivi would always be waiting.
Because family isn’t about perfect choices. It’s about finding your way back to each other.
