He was ready to retire.
Ms. Bennett helped me finalize the purchase.
The garage purchase was completed just before my birthday party.
On the morning of the party, I’d quietly borrowed the photograph from Dad’s toolbox.
I wanted to return it with something better.
Dad knew nothing.
For once, I was the one keeping a wonderful secret.
Then three weeks before my birthday party, my mother contacted me.
I was sitting at my workbench when her message appeared.
“Emma, it’s Mom. I know I don’t deserve an answer. But I’ve spent years wishing I could tell you how sorry I am.”
I read it six times.
Eleven years.
No calls.
No birthday cards.
Nothing.
And suddenly, there she was.
I almost deleted it.
Instead, I typed, “Why now?”
Her answer came quickly.
“Because I’ve been a coward for too long.”
We started talking.
At first, cautiously.
Then every evening.
She remembered my favorite childhood book.
She remembered how I insisted on wearing mismatched socks.
She cried when I told her about school.
“I missed so much,” she whispered.
“You missed everything,” I answered.
“I know, sweetheart.”
