When I returned home, I searched through old family documents.
At the bottom of a box, I found a folder.
Inside was an adoption record.
It listed my mother as the birth parent.
There was also a handwritten note.
She wrote about being young, about being forced to give up her first child.
She wrote that she would always remember her.
I understood then.
Margaret was my sister.
Finding Each Other After a Lifetime
I sent her the documents.
We spoke again.
We took a DNA test.
It confirmed what we already felt.
We were sisters.
Not twins.
But connected by the same beginning.
Living With the Truth
