“Grandma, it’s your turn.”
“My turn for what?”
“Handing out presents! You have to do Grandpa’s funny announcements.”
I stared at the faded red hat.
Then I put it on.
It slipped over one eyebrow.
I picked up the first present.
“And now,” I announced in my deepest voice, “number seven, the wonderful LILY ROSE KESSLER!”
The children burst into laughter.
Soon everyone was laughing.
For a little while, it almost felt as though Walter were sitting beside us again.
When the presents were finished, I reached for the shoebox.
“Adam, there’s something I want you to have.”
He sat beside me.
I placed the box in his hands.
“I sold most of your father’s collection,” I explained. “But I kept one thing.”
He opened the lid.
Inside was an old youth hockey program, a team photograph, and a worn black puck.
The puck had white tape wrapped around it.
