Photographs, hundreds of them, fill photo albums in my adoptive mother’s house. My birthmother has piles of photos of her family. I have my own albums, saved from my teens, all the way to the present, almost. Somewhere in our moves, I lost James’ baby album. It was a slender photo book. I searched and searched, but it has never turned up.

I wonder why it bothers me, that skinny little book, when mostly the albums sit in the closet, ignored. But it does.

I finally gave in to the understanding I was not going to find that album. Since I ordered it online, it was just a matter of logging onto the site, and resetting the password. And there was my order history. It seems I ordered two books in early 2014. Then I clicked on “Photos” and there it was - the time just before James was born and the first year or so of his life.

Those photos represent happy times. Many of my memories of his first several years were sad or traumatic, and the photos help remind me of the good times, and how I tried very hard to keep happiness for the children even as things fell apart.

I will be reordering the books soon, though just seeing the photos still exist was hugely comforting.