I first noticed the tattoo on our honeymoon.
A beautiful young woman stared up from Richard’s chest. She had dark eyes, delicate features, and a tiny rose tucked behind one ear.
“Who is she?” I asked, trying to hide my curiosity
Richard laughed softly and pulled me closer.
“Nobody, Evelyn. Just a face the tattoo artist came up with when I was nineteen.”I believed him.For twenty years, I believed that simple explanation.
The tattoo became part of Richard in the same way his laugh, his favorite shirt, and the little habits he had developed over the years had become familiar to me. I eventually stopped asking about it.
Our marriage had its share of difficult seasons. We spent years hoping to become parents, going through appointments and treatments that left us disappointed more times than I can count. Each time, we tried to remain hopeful.
Eventually, we chose another path.
Adoption changed our lives.
When Claire became our daughter, everything suddenly felt different. She was the little girl we had waited so long to welcome into our family and bringing her home remains one of the most meaningful memories of my life.
Family
Richard was overjoyed.