In that moment—above the glittering city, far from the ashes of my farm and the coldness of my daughter’s doorstep—I realized something:
Family isn’t always the people who share your blood.
Sometimes, it’s the people who answered the phone.
Sometimes, it’s the people who send a helicopter.
Sometimes, it’s the boy who once asked if he’d ever find a home…and grew up determined to give you one.
