I kept the pink notebook in a drawer.

For a long time, I thought about throwing it away.

But eventually, I realized it had taught me something.

It had shown me the difference between being loved and being useful.

It had shown me how easily kindness can become an obligation.

And it had reminded me that I was allowed to choose my own life.

One afternoon, Augie came over.

He saw the notebook on the table.

“Grandma, what’s that?”

I smiled.

“An old notebook.”

“Can I draw in it?”

I hesitated.

Then I opened it to a blank page at the back.

“Sure.”

He drew a picture of our family.

Me in the middle.

Hugh on one side.

Marlee on the other.

And the children holding my hands.

Above us, he wrote:

“GRANDMA’S HAPPY HOUSE.”

I stared at the picture.

Then I hugged him.

“That is the best thing anyone has ever drawn for me.”

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