“For eight words.”
“Basically.”
Andrew stared.
“Age appropriate was not eight words.”
“No.”
Sophie smiled.
“Grandma decided seven.”
Andrew groaned.
Margaret, now older and somewhat less combative, said:
“I stand by it.”
Everyone shouted no.
They laughed.
The memory box moved into Sophie’s possession when she graduated college.
She did not take it to Seattle initially.
Left it at the Boulder house.
Not because Andrew needed it.
Because Sophie did not want a cedar box full of grief in a dorm.
Practical.
Healthy.
She studied child development and later became a school counselor.
Everyone assumed her family history caused the career.
Sophie hated that explanation.
“I also like summers off.”
she said.
Fair.
She eventually specialized in elementary-school counseling anyway.
Not grief specifically.
Children.
Families.
Behavior.
The messy part where adults made decisions and children absorbed the emotional bookkeeping.
At twenty-seven, Sophie became engaged to Daniel Park, a civil engineer she met through friends.
Andrew liked him too quickly.
Caroline warned:
“Play harder to get.”
Andrew ignored her.
Margaret asked whether Sophie planned to watch Hannah’s wedding-day video.
Sophie said yes.
Then waited six months.
On her own schedule.
When she finally watched it, she invited Andrew, Caroline, and Margaret.
All three.
That surprised them.
They sat in the living room.
Same room.
Different furniture.
The hardwood had been refinished twice.
Sophie placed the locket on the coffee table.
Not wearing it.
Hannah appeared on screen.
Older than in some videos.
Closer to death.
Breathing slightly harder.
She smiled.
“Okay, Soph.”
“If this is your wedding day, congratulations.”
“Unless you canceled it, in which case congratulations on that too.”
Sophie laughed through tears.
Hannah talked about partnership.
Keeping money transparent.
Knowing how to change a tire.
Not allowing wedding planning to become marriage planning.
Then she paused.
Her expression softened.
“If your dad remarried, I hope the person beside him is kind.”
Caroline stopped breathing.
Andrew looked toward her.
Hannah continued.
“I hope she loves you without feeling like she has to replace me.”
Caroline covered her mouth.
Sophie reached for her hand.
Hannah smiled on screen.
“And if she is awful, you have Aunt Melissa’s number.”
Everyone laughed through tears.
Margaret whispered:
“She always ruined sincerity.”
Hannah continued.
“Whoever is in your family by then, let them be in it.”
“Do not make loyalty to me a test they have to fail.”
Caroline cried harder.
Andrew closed his eyes.
Margaret looked toward the floor.
Hannah finished with simple words.
“I love you.”
“I loved being your mother.”
“Nothing that happens after me makes that smaller.”
Screen dark.
No one spoke for several minutes.
Then Sophie looked at Caroline.
“She knew.”
Caroline wiped her face.
“Knew what?”
“That people would make it weird.”
Andrew laughed.
“Yes.”
Margaret cried.
“I made it weird.”
Sophie looked toward her.
“Yes.”
Margaret stared.
Then laughed too.
Fair.
At the wedding, Sophie wore the locket.
Not because tradition required.
Because she wanted to.
Inside remained Hannah’s picture and toddler Sophie.
Caroline helped fasten it.
Same as when Sophie was seven.
Their hands were steadier.
Before walking down the aisle, Sophie looked toward Caroline.
“Mom.”
Caroline froze.
Sophie used the word rarely now.
Deliberately.
“Can you fix this?”
One braid had loosened.
Caroline laughed.