“My Birthday Was Yesterday”
My adopted son sat quietly, staring at his birthday cake. He didn’t smile. He didn’t move. Just stared.
Then, tears slowly rolled down his cheeks.
“My birthday was yesterday,” he whispered.
My heart sank. My stomach twisted. What?
The adoption papers said today was his birthday. That’s what I had planned everything around. What else had been kept from me?
A few months before, when I first started the adoption process, someone had asked me, “Do you want a boy or a girl?”
I had answered without thinking. “I just want to be a mom.”
That’s all I really knew. I wasn’t the kind of woman who dreamed of baking cookies every day or matching family pajamas for Christmas. But I knew—deep in my bones—that I could be the kind of mother who made a difference in a child’s life.
That child turned out to be Joey.
He had no idea that the day was coming. The day I would finally bring him home.
Every time I visited the foster home, Joey would get a little closer to me. He’d inch over while I read to him, his tiny fingers clutching the hem of my sweater. His big, dark eyes would just look at me, not saying anything, but asking:
“When? When will I finally have a home?”
The day I came to take him home, I carried a giant, soft, plush dinosaur with tiny little arms. Joey spotted it right away, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to grab it—but he didn’t move.
I knelt beside him and smiled.
“Well, Joey, are you ready to go home?”
He looked from me to the dinosaur, then back again.
“We’re never coming back here?”
“Never,” I said gently. “I promise.”
There was a pause. He seemed to think for a long moment. Then slowly, he reached out and took my hand.
“Alright. But just so you know… I don’t eat green beans.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed.
“Noted,” I said.
And just like that… I became a mom.
I knew things wouldn’t be easy. I knew there would be an adjustment period. What I didn’t know was just how many hidden hurts and secrets Joey carried from his past.
Joey’s birthday came just one week after he moved in with me.
I wanted it to be amazing. His first real birthday in his new home. Our first real celebration together as a family.
I went all out. Balloons, decorations, streamers. I carefully picked out presents—not too many, just enough to make him feel loved.
The day started off beautifully.
We made pancakes together in the kitchen. Well… “made” might be a stretch. We turned the kitchen into a disaster zone. Flour covered the floor, the counters, and even Joey’s nose.
He burst out laughing and smacked a cloud of flour into the air. It looked like it was snowing.
“Are we making pancakes or just redecorating the kitchen?” I joked.
“Both!” Joey said proudly, stirring the lumpy batter with intense focus.
He looked… happy. Comfortable. Maybe even safe.
That made every mess worth it.
After breakfast, we moved on to presents. I had picked out action figures, dinosaur books, and a giant T-rex toy that roared when you pushed a button.
Joey unwrapped them slowly, one by one. But as the paper came off each gift, I noticed something.
His smile started to fade.
“Do you like them?” I asked gently.
“Yeah… they’re cool.”
Something was off. That sparkle I expected—gone.
Then it was time for the cake. Chocolate, his favorite. I lit the candle and smiled.
“Alright, birthday boy. Time to make a wish.”
Joey just sat there, looking at the candle like it wasn’t even real.
“Sweetheart?” I nudged the plate closer to him. “This is your day. Come on, make a wish.”
His bottom lip trembled. His hands clenched into little fists.
Then he said it.
“This isn’t my birthday.”
I blinked. “What?”
“My birthday was yesterday.”
I stared at him. “But… the documents say today…”
He looked down. His voice was soft. “They made a mistake. My brother and I always had our birthdays together. But I was born before midnight. That’s what Grandma Vivi told us.”
It was the first time Joey had ever mentioned his past. The first time I got a glimpse of his life before me.
I swallowed hard and blew out the candle for him. Then I sat down beside him.
“Your brother?”
He nodded, drawing a circle with his finger on the table.
“Yeah. His name’s Tommy.”
“I… I didn’t know, Joey. I’m so sorry.”
He set his spoon down and sighed.
“I remember our birthdays. Grandma Vivi gave us each our own party. One for me, one for him. The last time… I was four, then he was four. And then they took me away.”
Just one year ago. That pain? Still fresh.
“I wish I could be with him right now,” he whispered.
I gently reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Joey…”
He didn’t look at me. He wiped his eyes quickly and stood up.
“I’m kinda tired.”
“Okay,” I said softly. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Even though it was daytime, I tucked him in. His little body just felt heavy—with sadness, not sleep.
Just as I turned to leave, he reached under his pillow and pulled out a small wooden box.
“My treasure box.”
He opened it and handed me a folded piece of paper.
“This is the place. Grandma Vivi always took us here.”
I unfolded the paper and gasped.
It was a hand-drawn picture. A lighthouse. Tall and strong, with a tree beside it.
I stared at it, frozen.
Right then, I knew: if I wanted to help Joey move forward, I had to help him heal the past first.
The next day, I searched for that lighthouse.
Page after page of search results. Google wasn’t helpful. Just a flood of articles and photos: tourist lighthouses, abandoned ones, ones turned into restaurants.
But then I noticed something small in the drawing. A single tree, standing right beside the lighthouse.
That was the key.
I filtered the search to our state and scanned every photo until…
“That’s it!”
I turned the screen. “Joey, does this look familiar?”
His eyes widened. His fingers touched the screen.
“That’s the place.”
I smiled. “Alright, buddy. Let’s go on an adventure.”
“Yeah! That’s a real one!”
The next day, I packed snacks, juice boxes, and a big blanket.
“We might not find it right away,” I warned. “But we’ll have fun trying.”
Joey didn’t hear me. He was already tying his sneakers, too excited to slow down.
On the drive, he held his drawing tightly, tracing the lighthouse lines again and again.
I turned on an audiobook about dinosaurs, but I could tell—his mind was somewhere else.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked.
“What if she doesn’t remember me?”
I reached over and squeezed his hand.
“How could she ever forget you?”
We finally arrived at a small coastal town. It was busy—people walking dogs, eating seafood, poking through old antique stores.
I slowed the car.
“Let’s ask someone,” I said.
Before I could park, Joey leaned out the window and waved like crazy at a woman walking by.
“Hi! Do you know where my Grandma Vivi lives?”
She stopped, surprised, and looked at both of us.
For a moment, I thought she’d be suspicious. But instead, she pointed down the street.
“Oh, you mean old Vivi? Yellow house near the cliffs. You can’t miss it.”
Joey turned to me, his eyes huge.
“That’s it! That’s where she lives!”
The yellow house stood near the cliffs, just like she said. And in the distance—there it was. The lighthouse from Joey’s drawing.
I parked and looked at Joey.
“Want to stay in the car while I talk?”
He nodded, holding his picture tightly.
I walked to the door and knocked.
An older woman opened it, silver hair pulled back in a messy bun. She had sharp eyes and held a teacup in one hand.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Are you Vivi?”
She squinted. “Who’s asking?”
“My name is Kayla. My son Joey… he’s in the car. He’s looking for his brother. Tommy.”
Something in her eyes flickered. But she said coldly:
“There are no brothers here.”
“Oh… I’m sorry…”
But suddenly, Joey was beside me.
“Grandma Vivi!” he shouted, holding up his drawing. “I brought Tommy a present!”
Vivi’s face changed. She tightened her grip on the teacup.
“You should leave.”
Joey’s face fell.
“Please,” I said, softly. “He just wants to see his brother.”
Her voice was firm. “You shouldn’t dig up the past.”
And just like that, she shut the door.
I stood there, stunned. Angry. Confused. Hurt.
Joey looked at the closed door. His shoulders sank. I bent down next to him.
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
He didn’t cry. He just walked to the doorstep, gently placed his drawing there, and turned back to the car.
My heart was breaking.
I started the engine. I was already blaming myself for everything.
But then…
“Joey! Joey!”
A voice shouted. I looked in the rearview mirror.
A boy was running—fast. His face looked just like Joey’s.
“Tommy?” Joey whispered.
Before I could stop him, Joey flung open the car door and ran.
They crashed into each other—hugging so tight, like they never wanted to let go.
Behind them, Vivi stood in the doorway, hand over her heart, eyes full of tears.
Then she lifted her hand. A slow, silent nod.
An invitation.
We weren’t going anywhere.
Later, we sat at her kitchen table. Vivi stirred her tea, eyes locked on the two boys whispering to each other like best friends.
Then she finally spoke.
“When the boys were one, their parents died in a car accident.”
I froze. I hadn’t known that.
“I wasn’t young. I wasn’t strong. I had no money. I had to make a choice.”
She looked up at me.
“So… I kept the one who looked like my son. And let the other go.”
I gasped.
“The birthday party. It was a goodbye. I thought it was the right thing. But I was wrong.”
A long silence.
Then Joey reached out and gently touched her hand.
“It’s okay, Grandma Vivi. I found Mom.”
Her lips trembled. She squeezed his hand.
From that day on, we made a promise.
The boys would never be separated again.
Joey and Tommy both moved in with me. And every weekend, we returned to that lighthouse—the one on the cliff where Grandma Vivi always waited.
Because being a family isn’t about being perfect.
It’s about finding your way back to each other.