Another family party, this time celebrating my 36th birthday. It’s a sunny day and the children will have a wonderful time playing in the warm weather, well all except for our newborn, Layla, that is. She much prefers the shade. It is June 9th and I, Ellie Cordell, am entering the second half of my thirties. God, when did I get this old? Does the general population consider this old? I’m not really sure how to feel. My husband, David, is driving us to my parent’s home where my dad will no doubt be wearing his “Don’t kiss the cook, I’m happily married” apron. My brother, Nick, is on the way with his wife and two children as well. I know their kids can’t wait to meet Layla.

Meanwhile, as Ellie’s mother and father prepared for the arrival of their children and grandchildren, they were in their master bedroom having an argument. The same argument they have had on repeat for many years. Ellie’s mother, Margaret, held the adoption papers in her hand, begging her husband, Stephen, to let her reveal the truth. The truth was that when they were first married they moved far far away from their families, to which they had never been particularly close. Growing up they had both felt quite different from their families and lonely in their upbringing. They vowed to each other their need to prevent another child from experiencing such loneliness. Eventually the perfect pregnant single mother came along, she even looked as though she could have been born of Stephen and Margaret. She couldn’t keep the baby for one reason or another, and Margaret was filled with joy to love the baby for the rest of its life. When they received the news the baby boy was waiting for them at the hospital, tears filled Margaret’s eyes and Stephen immediately grabbed his keys. They named him Nick, swiftly completed the adoption legalities, and never wanting him to experience loneliness they once had, decided not to reveal the adoption during his childhood. Then they became pregnant with Ellie shortly after and it somehow felt unfair to tell him the truth of where he came from. They loved him as their own anyways, but now he was an adult and Margaret felt he could appreciate the love they bestowed on him in place of the family who could not keep him.

Stephen was once again winning the argument stating, “there is no need to turn our family’s world upside down,” slamming the door behind him as he left the room. Exasperated, Margaret sat on the bed with her head in her hands. Hoping to resume the discussion before the children arrived, she shoved the papers in the pocket of her coat hanging in their closet and also left the room.

We arrived to my parents house and David grabbed the hands of the older children to walk them to the backyard as I carried Layla. We reached the backyard, and there stood my dad grilling with his infamous apron. My brother and his wife had arrived also, all of the children were so happy together. It reminded me of the summer days I spent here with my brother, playing until mom called us in for dinner. My reminiscing was quickly interrupted by Layla, crying to be breastfed. Mom ushered us upstairs for some privacy.

We snuggled onto their bed. Layla seemed quite content, she was so sweet from this angle. Until of course she wasn’t, she had slipped off my breast and spit up at the same time. In a frenzy I picked her up and began searching for something to wipe the mess. I noticed the closet door open with my

mother’s jacket resting on it’s hanger, hoping she may have some napkins in her pocket. Blindly, I reached in and pulled out the contents. Realizing it was folded up papers, I quickly tossed it aside and jogged to the bathroom. After getting cleaned up, Layla was ready to rest. Laying on the bed with her, I remembered the papers as she drifted off to sleep. I grabbed them from the end of the bed, nosily I unfolded them.

My draw dropped as I felt my whole life shifting. Or rather, my brother’s life. How could this be? We were practically identical twins! I pondered what to do with this new information, scooping up Layla and holding her close. We rejoined the family with the papers still strewn across the bed.