It broke the day my son turned seven. One moment, he was humming off-key in the back seat, clutching his toy cars and wearing his favorite dinosaur shirt; the next, he was standing in my parents’ living room, watching his cousins rip open presents under a banner with someone else’s name. No balloons for him. No candles. No “happy birthday.” Just the familiar, suffocating script of my childho… Continues…
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