That’s when I got an idea.
« Mom, » I said, « I forgot your real present at home. Can we do gifts again tomorrow? »
Melissa laughed.
« You’re making her wait another day? »
I ignored her.
The next afternoon, everyone returned for leftover cake.
I placed a large wrapped box in front of Mom.
Melissa leaned back, amused.
Mom removed the paper.
Inside was a scrapbook I’d made from copies of everything she’d kept: photographs, Mother’s Day cards, little notes we’d written as children.
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