“Apparently we’re making this personal now.”
Ariel smiled.
Mrs. Grunwald did too.
That was the first time the whole thing felt light again.
A few days later, Ariel came home carrying her wooden savings box.
Inside was a glasses case.
She opened it and handed me a folded note.
Mrs. Grunwald had written one sentence.
“Thank you for seeing me before everybody else started looking.”
“You’re keeping this?”
“Forever.”
Without thinking, my hand moved toward my phone.
Then I stopped.
Ariel noticed.
“You’re not taking a picture?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
She studied me for a second.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Ariel folded the note carefully and placed it inside the case.
Then she tucked the case into the wooden box.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“If I save my money again and I want to help somebody, do I still have to tell you?”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m still your mother.”
She rolled her eyes.
“But I’ll listen before I tell you what I think you should do.”
“That’s better.”
I looked at the wooden box: no certificate, no award, no screenshots, just one private note from one woman to one little girl.
Ariel closed the lid.
I left it closed.
