“You kept it.”
“All these years.”
“Why?”
Grandma looked at Thomas.
“Because I never forgot your little boy.”
His mother began crying again.
“Neither of us ever forgot you.”
They sat together for a long time.
Nobody hurried them.
Eventually, Thomas asked if Grandma would come to Christmas dinner.
She laughed.
Then cried.
Then said yes.
That evening, I helped Grandma hang up her coat.
I touched its frayed sleeve.
“Still don’t want a new one?”
Grandma smiled.
“No, sweetheart.”
She looked at the six brass buttons.
For years, I’d thought she wore that coat because she couldn’t bear to part with something old.
Now I understood.
It had carried a frightened child through fire.
And carried Grandma through 67 winters of wondering.
I reached for the hanger.
Grandma stopped me.
“Wait.”
She fastened the top button.
The one Daniel had sewn back on.
Then she smiled through fresh tears.
