your babysitter was better than being nobody.”
I didn’t know what to say.
So I asked the question that mattered most.
“I was terrified.”
“What happened when I turned 13, Anna?”
She looked at the wrapped box.
“That happened.”
She pushed the gift toward me.
The paper had faded with age.
One corner had been repaired with clear tape.
“That happened.”
“I bought this when you were 12,” she said.
I slowly unwrapped it. Inside was a small wooden box.
A silver locket rested inside.
My hands started shaking as I picked it up.
“I slowly unwrapped it.”
“Open it,” Anna urged.
One side held a baby picture of me. The other showed Anna in a hospital bed holding a child against her chest. She looked exhausted and happy.
“Is that me?”
She nodded.
The back of the locket had an engraving:
“From your mother, who was always