It was there, set carefully between the gift bags. A handful of assorted, beloved wooden nuts and bolts. One treasured Nepali coin. And a stack of homemade cards in brightly colored envelopes. Proof of their love.
Saturday had been a flurry of drawing, a whirlwind of, “b-I-r-th-d-ay?” and “Does this say, ‘Jack,’?” “What? It’s tomorrow? Can I make him a present?” Now here it was Sunday morning, and they were all pressing in, eager to see his reaction, itching for their turn to be twirled and bounced during the required birthday dance.