Being a single dad to twins hasn’t been easy. Most days, it feels like I’m sprinting through life while juggling fire. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared me for what I found hidden inside a secondhand washing machine I bought out of desperation.
I’m 34, and my entire world revolves around two three-year-old tornadoes named Bella and Lily. Their mom left when they were just a few months old, saying she “wasn’t cut out for diapers and midnight feedings.”
