parents’ brief intrusion.
We carried the stacked boxes to the garage, restored the living room furniture to its original places, and re-hung the old family photographs my father had removed from the hallway walls.
On a quiet Sunday afternoon, I found Grandma sitting in her favorite armchair beside the sunlit study window.
On the small table beside her sat her late husband’s leather-bound journal and a brass fountain pen.
She was writing carefully in the back pages.
I walked in and set a fresh cup of tea beside her.
“What
