I Stumbled Upon a Headstone in the Woods and Saw My Childhood Photo on It – I Was Shocked When I Learned the Truth
Three weeks after moving my family to a quiet town in Maine, I stumbled into the past I never knew was mine.
While mushroom hunting behind our cottage, my son Ryan ran ahead into a hidden clearing. Brandy started barking, and when I caught up, I froze. Scattered among the trees were old headstones — and on one of them was a ceramic photo of a little boy.
It was me.
The date etched beneath it was my birthday.
That night, Lily reminded me what little I knew about my beginnings. I’d been adopted at four after being found outside a burning house. A firefighter handed me to my adoptive mother with a note: “Please take care of this boy. His name is Travis.”
At the local library, I learned about a cabin fire decades ago. Three bodies were found. One child was unaccounted for.
An elderly woman named Clara filled in the rest: I had an identical twin, Caleb. Our parents died in the fire. My uncle Tom later placed the headstone because no one knew which twin had survived.
When I met Tom, he looked at me like he’d seen a ghost. He’d never stopped hoping one of us lived.
A week later, I returned to the clearing with my son.
“Are we visiting your brother?” Ryan asked.
“Yes,” I said softly. “His name was Caleb.”
And for the first time in my life, I knew where I came from.
