“What happened when I turned thirteen?”
She looked at the wrapped present.
“That happened.”
Part 4
She pushed the package toward me.
The yellow paper had faded badly with age. One corner had been repaired with clear tape.
“I bought it when you were twelve,” she said.
I slowly opened it.
Inside was a small wooden box.
Inside the box, resting on velvet, was a silver locket.
My hands began to shake.
“Open it,” Anna said.
I pressed the tiny clasp.
Inside was a baby photograph of me.
On the other side was a picture of Anna, much younger, lying in a hospital bed with a newborn against her chest.
She looked exhausted.
But she also looked happier than I’d ever seen her.
“Is that me?”
She nodded.
I turned the locket over.
An engraving was carved into the back:
“From your mother, who was always closer than you knew.”
I couldn’t speak.
“That was the present you were going to give me?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s why you said I’d understand it when I was older?”
She nodded.
“You were getting old enough to start asking questions. I couldn’t bear the thought of you becoming an adult without knowing who I really was.”
