PART 39 — THE STORY LUCY KEPT
That summer, Lucy found the card she had made for me.
The yellow one.
Thank you for coming to get me.
Its corners had begun curling on the refrigerator.
She took it down.
“Can we put this away?”
I felt a sudden ache.
“Of course.”
“Not throw it away.”
“No.”
“Just keep it with the other things.”
I brought out the folder where we saved her schoolwork.
She slid the card inside.
Then she added the family project.
The picture with quiet crossed out and safe written above it.
She closed the folder.
“There.”
I rested my hand on the cover.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She thought.
“Not today.”
“All right.”
Then she looked up.
“I remember.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t always want to remember.”
I nodded.
“That’s okay.”
She glanced toward the garden.
“Can I go see if the sunflowers opened?”
“Yes.”
She ran outside.
I remained at the table with the closed folder.
For a long time, I had believed protecting her meant making sure the truth was never lost.
The records.
The letters.
The careful account of what had happened.
But Lucy did not have to live with the evidence displayed around her.
The truth could be kept safely while she went outside.
I put the folder on the shelf.
Then I followed her into the garden.
PART 40 — THE FIRST FLOWERS
Our lilac bloomed the following spring.
Only a few clusters.
Pale purple against the fence.
Lucy spotted them before I did.
She came running into the kitchen.
“Mommy.”
“What?”
“It worked.”
I followed her outside.
The bush was still small.
Some branches remained bare.
But the flowers were there.
She bent close.
“It smells like the picture.”
I laughed.
“You can’t smell a picture.”
PART 2-Christmas supper was off-limits to my 7-year-old daughter………….
