That nearly undid me.
Mom came out carrying the cake knife.
“What are we doing?”
Grandma pointed toward the package.
“Sit down.”
Mom frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I’m 101 and you still don’t do as you’re told.”
My uncle laughed.
Mom sat.
I peeled away the tissue paper.
Underneath was a wooden box.
Not new.
Dark walnut, scratched at the corners, with a little brass clasp.
I recognized it immediately.
“Oh my God.”
Mom leaned forward.
“What?”
