I was chopping vegetables when my four-year-old daughter

return.

My sister sits beside her, reading from a picture book in a voice that keeps cracking.

Emma sees me and reaches both arms out.

I run to her.

Andrew stops at the door.

He does not enter until Emma looks at him.

He holds up the little shoe he has carried all this time.

“I found this, Bug.”

Emma studies him.

Then she whispers, “Did Grandma go away?”

Andrew’s continue reading …