For years, the thought of adoption lingered quietly at the back of my mind, but I pushed it away. I told myself I was too old, too settled in my routines, and too scared to hope again. The truth was, I was terrified of opening my heart and risking everything — love, loss, and grief — all over again. But the thought never left me. It grew louder with each lonely breakfast, every quiet weekend, and every holiday spent alone.
One gray Tuesday afternoon, after pouring coffee for one and staring at the empty chair across from me, I finally made a decision. I drove to the children’s shelter on the outskirts of town, my hands shaking on the steering wheel the entire way. The building was old and painted a cheerful yellow, a color that felt almost too bright for the sadness it contained inside. The air smelled like crayons and cleaning supplies, and the soft sounds of children’s voices echoed down the hallways.Continue reading…
