Kevin stopped in front of me, close enough that I could see the tiny beads of sweat along his forehead. His graduation gown brushed against my knees, and the envelope in his hand trembled almost as badly as mine. For a moment, neither of us spoke. I stared at the faded cream paper, at the familiar handwriting on the front, and felt twenty years of carefully buried memories rise inside my chest.

« Grandma, » he said, his voice breaking slightly. « I think you should hold this. »