A father holding a baby.
Then a grandfather surrounded by smiling children.
Grandma studied every picture.
“That’s him?”
“Yes.”
She touched the photograph of the grandfather.
“Look how big he got.”
She laughed through her tears.
“He was so little.”
She held the photograph closer.
I expected relief, but she looked frightened.
“Would he want to meet me?”
The manager stared at her.
“Ma’am, he’s been asking that question about you for decades.”
The man was called Thomas.
The manager telephoned him that afternoon.
I stayed beside Grandma while they spoke.
At first, Thomas said nothing.
Then he asked, “Is she really there?”
The manager explained about the button.
The coat.
Grandma’s memory of the fire.
I could hear Thomas crying through the telephone.
“Please tell her I never stopped looking.”
Grandma covered her face.
They arranged to meet four days later.
Thomas lived several hours away.
