There are countless ordinary moments that can never be recreated.
But we have today.
And for women our age, that matters.
We don’t need to rewrite the past to appreciate what we found.
We simply need to stop letting the past prevent us from living in the present.
Sometimes I still think about Ella.
I always will.
She was my first companion.
My mirror.
My twin.
The little girl whose red ball was the last thing the searchers found.
I don’t know what really happened to her.
Perhaps one day, someone will uncover another piece of the story.
Perhaps they won’t.
But I no longer feel that my entire identity depends on finding every answer.
Because after 68 years, I discovered something I never expected.
I thought I had lost one sister.
Instead, I learned that I had another sister waiting somewhere in the world.
And when I finally met her, I wasn’t looking at a stranger.
I was looking at a missing piece of myself.
Ella’s absence will always be part of my story.
But so will Margaret.
And perhaps that is what healing looks like after a lifetime of unanswered questions.
Not forgetting the person you lost.
Not pretending the past didn’t happen.
But finally allowing yourself to make room for the truth—and for the people who are still here.
