I sat beside her and carefully placed Emma in her arms.
She looked at me in surprise.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I replied. “But this time, teach me how to check her fingers, toes, and wrists too.”
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears, but she smiled.
That day, I realized that the reason she had always kept her distance wasn’t because she didn’t care. She hadn’t avoided her granddaughter because she didn’t love her.
She was afraid of making another mistake.
A few hours later, the color of Emma’s arm had completely returned to normal. Only a thin, pale line remained, and even that disappeared the following morning.
The photograph I took that evening, while Emma slept peacefully in her grandmother’s arms, became our family’s favorite picture.
