The moment my mom opened the door, everything shifted — her expression morphed from polite anticipation to stunned recognition. “Trevor, is that really you?” she gasped. As it turns out, long before I was born, Trevor was one of the children my mom had bonded with during her time volunteering at a children’s home. Their connection had left a lasting mark on both of them. As they pieced memories together over dinner,

from yellow bouncy houses to plate duty at the home, I watched their reunion unfold like something out of a movie. Trevor shared how he’d been adopted and built a successful life, while my mom was visibly touched by his journey. That night, as we drove home, Trevor said it best — reconnecting with Fiona was just a beautiful coincidence. What he really wanted was to know the people who mattered most to me. And though the past had unexpectedly tied us together, we both knew the present was what really mattered.