I Buried My Son 10 Years Ago – When I Saw My New Neighbors’ Son, I Could Have Sworn He Looked like Mine Would If He Were Alive Today

She looked from me to her son… and then to his eyes.

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I stood on that porch for a moment I couldn’t measure, trying to understand what had just happened to me.

I heard them processing it, too — muted voices that didn’t carry through the door well enough for me to make out what they were saying to each other.

Then I turned and ran back home.

Carl was in the living room when I got back, reading. He looked up when I came in.

“You’re back already?” he asked.

I turned and ran back home.

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I sat down beside him on the couch.

“Carl. The boy next door.”

“What about him?”

“He looks like Daniel.”

Carl shut his book but didn’t say anything.

“The same hair,” I said. “The same face. Carl, he has the same eyes. One blue, one brown. He’s nineteen years old, the same age Danny would’ve been now, and he looks just like him.”

Carl went very still.

“He looks like Daniel.”

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In all the years I’d been married to Carl, I’d never seen him look like he looked in that moment.

“I thought,” he whispered, “I thought this was buried.”