After years of waiting to become a mother, I was finally preparing to welcome eight-year-old Leo into our home. When he arrived, nearly everything he owned fit inside a small black garbage bag, along with a worn stuffed bear named Captain. As I unpacked his belongings onto the bed, a heavy brass compass suddenly fell out. The moment I turned it over and saw the initials C.M., I froze—it had belonged to Clara Marsh, my childhood best friend, who had given it to me seventeen years earlier after we once got lost on a camping tri…Continue Reading
