“I think I just met the happiest person in the world!” my wife said as she placed empty plates on the table.

“What do you mean?” I ask as I steal a piece of orange chicken from the to-go boxes and stuff it into my mouth. I set the containers onto the center of our small, round table.

My wife and I were doing our nightly dance, reaching around each other in our small apartment kitchen, gathering the necessary tools for dinner. She set the plates, while I grabbed the food; she gathered drinks while I got napkins and silverware. It was choreographed perfection at this point. A small, daily reminder of our compatibility.

“I mean,” she responded, “I really think I just met the happiest person in the world.”

“I heard you, but what does that mean?” I asked as we both sat.

“Well,” she grabbed the fried rice and began portioning it onto her plate. “I was waiting for pick-up at the Chinese place. They were running really behind tonight.” She passed the rice to me. “I sat down in a booth near the front and started responding to emails on my phone when this kid comes and slides into the booth across from me.”

“And he’s the happiest person in the world?” I ask, grabbing some egg rolls from the carton.

“No, listen.” She eats a bite of orange chicken. “Anyway, this kid sits across from me and starts asking me questions, rapid fire. He was about 5. Super cute kid, but the kind that seems like he never runs out of energy.”

“So, like you as a kid?” I smirked.

She started to look offended, but then admitted with a chuckle, “Yes, probably a bit like me. Anyway, he talked to me for 10 minutes straight, barely took a breath. He was a delight.” She grabbed a second egg roll.

“While we were talking, his mom came over. She’d been at the counter ordering food. She was a delight as well. I guess, you know, the apple…”

“Doesn’t fall far from the tree?”

“Right,” she paused. “The food still wasn’t ready. I was about to get up to go check again when my phone rang. I checked it, but it was an unknown number. At that moment, they yelled that the food was ready. I forgot about the call until I pulled in the driveway.”

I drop my chopsticks onto the table. “I don’t get it.”

“What do you mean?” She stared at me across the table.

“I mean, what do you mean? Was it the mom? The kid? Your story makes no sense.”

She gives me a half smile. “That’s because, I’m not done with my story.” I give an exasperated sigh. “When I pulled into the garage, I saw I have a voicemail from the missed number. I listened and called the number back right away.”

“And?”

Her eyes welled up with tears. “It was the adoption agency. They think they have a baby for us.”

“What?” A sob leapt from my throat, mixed with laughter. Joy and relief and excitement and fear intermingled in one of the most emotional experiences of my life. Before I even knew was happening, I was around the table wrapping my wife up in my arms. Years of waiting and trying and hoping and praying all culminated in this moment. We cried together and held one another for a long time. I’m not sure how long.

Then I pulled her away slightly and asked, “Wait, your story still never made sense.”

“It’s you. You’re the happiest person in the world at this moment.”

“You’re right. I am.”