Adele stood first.
Maya lifted the microphone. "Adele, my beautiful girl, from the day you were born, I dreamed of seeing you in white."
Adele's face stayed calm.
"I dreamed of seeing you in white."
"A mother's love never leaves," Maya continued. "Even when life, pain, and other people pull her away from her children."
The room went quiet.
"There are things children can't understand. Sometimes a mother is kept from her children."
Adele stepped forward. "Actually, Mom, before you finish, I have something for you."
Penelope and Lucille brought out the white box tied with satin ribbon.
Maya blinked, then smiled wider. "For me?"
"I have something for you."
"For you," Adele said. "Open it."
Maya pulled the ribbon loose and lifted the lid.
At first, she only stared.
Inside were 15 envelopes, each labeled with a year. Beneath them were photos, invitations, programs, returned letters, printed emails, and my old notebook with the cracked spine.
