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“Mom, what’s this?” she asked, pulling the cardigan from a storage box. She held it up, eyes sparkling. “It’s beautiful. Can I try it on?”
I froze. No one had worn it since the day it was given to me. My instinct was to say no. But instead, I whispered, “Go ahead.”
Then she paused, frowning, and reached into the pocket.
“Mom… there’s something inside.”
My heart skipped. She handed me a tiny, folded piece of paper, yellowed but intact. My hands trembled as I unfolded it and saw my grandmother’s delicate handwriting.
“For my sweet girl,
May this keep you warm when I no longer can.
Always remember how deeply you are loved.”
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