I Saw a Facebook Post: “I’m Looking for My Mom.” Then I Realized the Girl in the Photo Was My Exact Carbon Copy

The Postcard With Three Words

I kept digging through the box.

There were copies of police reports.

Letters to hospitals and adoption agencies.

Dead ends stacked on dead ends.

Then, at the bottom, I found a faded postcard.

No return address.

Just three words in unfamiliar handwriting:

“I’m doing okay.”

No signature.

No date.

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