At my twin sister’s graduation, my father lifted his camera for her name—then the dean said

“Francis Townsend.”

For a second, the name seemed to hang in the air like it didn’t belong to anyone. Like it had been misplaced, read from the wrong card, meant for someone else entirely.

Then I stood.

And the world tilted.

No photo description available.

From the corner of my eye, I saw my father’s camera remain lifted, but his finger never pressed the continue reading …