her foster placement.
Then, months later, the adoption was approved.
She came home for good in the spring.
The day before the adoption was finalized, James and I sat at the kitchen table choosing her legal name.
She had been Anna’s daughter from the beginning.
Her birth certificate already had a first name.
“Clara.”
I stared at it when I first learned it.
Of all names, it was the one I had carried since I was 19.
Nobody had known.
Not Anna.
Not anyone.
Sometimes coincidence feels almost rude.
We kept Clara.
But I asked for one more thing.
James cried when I asked.
Then he said yes before I had even finished.
I wanted Anna in her name.
Not hidden somewhere nobody would ever use it.
Not reduced to a note in a file.
Her full name became Clara Anna.
Anna would be said.
Written.
Called up the stairs.
