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A month later, almost to the day, the DNA test comes back positive. Mom and Dad scramble to book our flight and make the necessary preparations. A letter from my maternal grandmother, Mamá Chila, arrives with an English translation provided by Pro-Búsqueda.
Dad appears to be lost in thought as he plans out our first day of spring vacation. He scratches his mostly gray beard while scrutinizing a map of local attractions. My brother Derek and I lean on the stone wall outside of the historic Banyan Guest House, waiting to receive the day’s instructions.
Utterly drained, frustrated, and still fuming, I dump my sports bag by the door and sit down at the kitchen table. I had just returned from my weekly Sunday pickup game of Ultimate Frisbee, where the yellow team had lost 13 to 15. Despite pouring every last bit of energy I had into the game, I
