When we arrived home, Kevin carried my flowers inside.
He placed them in a glass of water because I hadn't brought a vase with me.
I laughed when I saw him arranging the stems.
"You're going to ruin them."
He looked offended.
"I'm trying to help."
I smiled.
"Then put them on the kitchen table."
He did.
The bent flower was still there.
I straightened it carefully.
Kevin watched me.
Then he looked around the kitchen.
"It's strange being back."
I nodded.
"Nothing much has changed."
He walked toward the living room.
The old couch was still there.
The furniture had become worn over the years.
But I had never replaced it.
He stood beside it for a moment.
Then he touched the armrest.
"I used to sleep here."
I smiled.
"You certainly did."
He laughed.
"Was I really that stubborn?"
"Very."
He looked at the blue blanket folded nearby.
I had kept it.
He picked it up.
The fabric had become thinner.
Some of the edges were worn.
But it was still recognizable.
He held it for a moment.
"Is this the same one?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
He smiled.
"I thought you had thrown it away."
"Why would I do that?"
He folded it carefully and placed it back.
Then he looked toward the hallway.
"Do you still have the old photographs?"
I knew which ones he meant.
"Some are in the bedroom."
He followed me.
I opened the drawer where I kept the family albums.
There were several.
Some had loose pages.
Others had old photographs tucked between the covers.
I took them out and placed them on the bed.
Kevin sat beside me.
We began looking through them.
There was a photograph of him as a baby.
Another showed his parents holding him.
I watched his expression change.
He touched the photograph of his mother.
"She looks happy."
"She was."
I told him a few things I remembered.
The way she laughed.
The way she used to hold him.
The little habits she had.
Kevin listened.
Then he picked up another photograph.
His father was standing beside a car.
Kevin smiled.
"He looks serious."
I laughed.
"He was pretending to be serious."
Kevin looked at me.
"Really?"
"Your father used to make jokes when nobody expected him to."
Kevin smiled again.
I was glad he was asking.
For years, I had worried that talking about his parents might hurt him.
Now I understood that silence could hurt too.
He turned another page.
There were photographs from his early childhood.
His first birthday with me.
His first day at school.
The day he received his first bicycle.
He laughed when he saw the bicycle photograph.
"I remember falling off that thing."
"You fell off more than once."
He shook his head.
I smiled.
We spent a long time looking through the albums.
Then he noticed the wooden box.
It was on the shelf near the wardrobe.
He stood and brought it over.
"This is the one I found the envelope in."
I nodded.
He opened the lid.
Inside were old cards, papers, and small keepsakes.
He moved them carefully.
I watched him.
There was a photograph of his parents near the bottom.
He picked it up.
Then he looked at me.
"Did you keep all these things for me?"
"Yes."
He lowered his eyes.
I touched his shoulder.
"I should have shared more of them with you."
He nodded.
Then he placed the photograph back inside.
We continued looking.
Some things made him laugh.
Others made him quiet.
I let him decide when to speak.
Before long, the room grew dark.
I switched on the bedside lamp.
Kevin looked at the clock.
"I should probably let you rest."
I smiled.
"You don't have to rush."
He shook his head.
"I know."
He closed the wooden box.
Then he carried it back to the shelf.
The envelope remained with him.
He had decided to keep it.
I didn't ask to see it again.
It belonged to him.
And I was finally learning to let him decide what to do with the things that belonged to his life.
Click here to continue reading: PART 19: The Next Morning Kevin Called Me Before Breakfast, and His First Question Reminded Me of the Four Years I Thought I Had Lost
He Had Called Me Every Evening for Four Years, Until One Phone Call Made Me Wonder What I Had Done Wrong
Part 18 of 20
