Why I Stopped Celebrating My “Birthday”
I don’t know when I was born. I’ve stopped pretending that I do.
A young woman taps a pencil against her cheek, considering a child. Maybe the child, who is me, sits across from her. Or maybe her only point of reference is the black-and-white photograph clipped to the file folder. A name, Oh Yong Chan, is pinned to his shirt. A number is written on the white border of the photograph. His hair is buzzed short. He is two, maybe less than that. Small enough that any guess at his age will be close.
birthdate

twoBy the mark, twain
Steve Haruch is a writer based in Nashville. He edited the books Greetings From New Nashville and People Only Die of Love in Movies: Film Writing by Jim Ridley. His work has appeared at The New York Times, The Atlantic, NPR's Code Switch and elsewhere.
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