My gift did not shine.
It was wrapped in plain cream paper because that was what I had.
I had tied it with a blue ribbon from my sewing drawer, the kind that came on a bundle of fabric years ago and was too nice to throw out.
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When Madison reached for it, I saw her glance at the wrapping before she saw the gift.
That glance told me enough.
Still, I hoped.
Age does not cure hope.
She pulled back the paper, lifted the blanket, and for one second the room quieted in a good way.
Even people who know nothing about stitching can recognize time when it is placed directly in front of them.
