I adopted a five-year-old girl I found wrapped in my late daughter’s jacket – years later, she handed me a note and said, “Your daughter asked me to give this to you today.”

that jacket.

It was Lily’s jacket.

Dark green canvas. Silver zipper. One missing snap on the left cuff where Lily had caught it on the fence behind our garage. And inside the right pocket, beneath the lining, there had once been a crooked hand repair Lily had done herself after tearing it at church camp and refusing to let me fix it properly.

Two women continue reading …