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Dear Lily,

Today marks your 4th birthday. While it's hard to comprehend the passage of four years since our short time with you, so little seems to change in the land of adoption.

I still see stories of babies stolen from biological fathers in the name of adoption.

I still see adopted children treated like objects in the popular media. For instance, just today, a story had gone viral on the web (a video actually) of a new baby (soon to be adopted) placed beneath the family Christmas tree for the older "siblings" to find. Like a present. An early holiday surprise. Others deemed this a charming introduction of the new family member, but I squirmed with discomfort upon discovering this in my news feed.

I still wonder about "Baby" Veronica, who is, like you, no longer a baby.

I still wonder about your biological family.

I still wonder about you.

Where are you? Are you still alive? I count the years until I even have the chance of finding out your fate. I count in fractions. This is 4 out of 18. Surely, at age 18, you might connect to your biological family? Maybe I will see your photo on your natural mom's twitter account? Or some other form of social media, yet to be invented. I check her online activity sometimes, like a benevolent stalker searching for some sign of you.

I still wonder: What do they call you now?

I still write, trying to unravel the mystery of our intersecting lives.

May you be blessed with only love, health, and happiness on your fourth birthday.