My Son Gave His Umbrella to a Pregnant Stranger in the Rain – The Next Morning, 47 Umbrellas Appeared on Our Lawn, Each With a Numbered Box That Made My Heart Stop

Then I looked at my son.

Water ran from his hair. His shirt was plastered to him, and his lips were quivering.

“Eli,” I said, pulling him inside. “Where’s your umbrella, baby?”

He met my eyes, and my stomach clenched.

I prayed it was not the blue one. Please, not the blue one.

“It’s gone, Mom,” he whispered.

The blue umbrella had never been costly. It had a wooden handle, a sticky silver button, and Darren’s slanted handwriting written inside the strap because Eli used to misplace everything when he was small.

But that umbrella, he never misplaced.