a hug.
I turned away for a moment because suddenly I was crying too.
When I looked back, Melissa had opened the scrapbook again.
Near the beginning was an old photograph of Mom beside a lake.
She looked maybe twenty-five.
Her shoes were in one hand.
Her jeans were rolled above her ankles.
She was laughing.
Melissa touched the photograph.
“Where was this?”
Mom smiled.
“Lake Briar.”
“You used to talk about that place.”
“I still do.”
“I thought you hadn’t been there since we were little.”
“I haven’t.”
Melissa
