As I crouched by the bottom drawer, something caught my eye, a folded piece of paper sticking out from the corner. I reached for it, frowning. Then another, and another. Soon, I realized it wasn’t just one, it was a small stack of drawings, crumpled but colorful.
I sat on the floor, my knees drawn to my chest, and slowly unfolded the first one.
It was Annie’s drawing.
The stick figures were crooked and bright with color. There was me, wearing a blue dress. Jeremiah, drawn taller, with messy brown hair and a big smile. And between us, a small girl with golden hair and wide eyes. Annie had drawn herself holding both our hands.
The title at the top read: My Family.
My vision blurred. I lifted another one, this time, the three of us standing under a moon, surrounded by wolves. She had written the words Our Pack Will Always Be Together.
I pressed the paper to my chest, a sob catching in my throat. “Oh, my sweet girl…” My voice cracked.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I gathered all her drawings in my arms. There were so many, little pieces of her imagination, her dreams, her love. Every page was a memory, every crayon stroke a heartbeat of the daughter I’d lost.
Except she wasn’t lost.