I adopted a five-year-old girl I found wrapped in my late daughter’s jacket – years later, she handed me a note and said, “Your daughter asked me to give this to you today.”

a needle.

Together, we stitched the pocket closed again.

Not to hide the note.

I put that in Lily’s memory box.

I ran my thumb over the seam.

We sewed the jacket because some things deserve mending, even when they can never be new.

“Is this okay?” Ava asked.

I ran my thumb over the seam.

“Yes,” I said. “Now it is.”

Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired continue reading …