The next ten were filled with drawings.
There were sketches of the kitchen.
Measurements for bookshelves.
Notes about colors.
Leah hates cold white lighting.
Remember additional outlets beside her reading chair.
She needs a proper place for her sewing machine.
Then, near the bottom of a page, I found a paragraph that made me stop breathing.
My beautiful Leah,
I know you will be angry that I kept so much from you.
I wanted this house to be a surprise, but I also wanted it to be ready when you needed it.
I could not fix what was happening to my body.
So I fixed what I could.
The roof.
The walls.
The road.
The locks.
You spent your life making sure everyone else had a place to belong.
I wanted to make certain nobody could ever take yours away.
I pressed the notebook against my chest.
Then I turned the page.
