Katherine Nicolai

It made me feel so unashamed and immediately realigned with what actually mattered. To this day, when something breaks, I stop and ask myself, is it a thing or a person? And like her, I can usually laugh instead of cry. I'd pinned her ladybug onto the lapel of my jacket today, as I'd gotten ready to go out the door, just feeling the need to have her around me.

When I'd stepped out of my apartment and into the narrow alleys of the oldest part of downtown, I stopped to look up at the way the spring sunlight shone on the tops of the buildings, Autumn sun is brassy, in the best possible way, but spring sunlight is bright gold, and I was happy to need my sunglasses as I walked.

When I'd stepped out of my apartment and into the narrow alleys of the oldest part of downtown, I stopped to look up at the way the spring sunlight shone on the tops of the buildings, Autumn sun is brassy, in the best possible way, but spring sunlight is bright gold, and I was happy to need my sunglasses as I walked.

When I'd stepped out of my apartment and into the narrow alleys of the oldest part of downtown, I stopped to look up at the way the spring sunlight shone on the tops of the buildings, Autumn sun is brassy, in the best possible way, but spring sunlight is bright gold, and I was happy to need my sunglasses as I walked.

At the corner shop, I stopped to buy a newspaper and a lemon muffin dotted with poppy seeds to tuck into my bag for later. The man who ran the shop had been sweeping the front steps when I came in, and his grandson stood proudly behind the counter, his chin just clearing the stacks of newspapers. He added up my purchases and with a serious face told me how much it would be.

At the corner shop, I stopped to buy a newspaper and a lemon muffin dotted with poppy seeds to tuck into my bag for later. The man who ran the shop had been sweeping the front steps when I came in, and his grandson stood proudly behind the counter, his chin just clearing the stacks of newspapers. He added up my purchases and with a serious face told me how much it would be.

At the corner shop, I stopped to buy a newspaper and a lemon muffin dotted with poppy seeds to tuck into my bag for later. The man who ran the shop had been sweeping the front steps when I came in, and his grandson stood proudly behind the counter, his chin just clearing the stacks of newspapers. He added up my purchases and with a serious face told me how much it would be.

His grandfather smiled down at his broom as he swept. I handed over the money and waited until the change was counted back. I thanked the little boy and resisted the urge to wink or make a joke. I remembered how important it was when you were young and trying to seem grown up that you were taken seriously. We shouldn't forget what being young feels like, even when we are young no longer.

His grandfather smiled down at his broom as he swept. I handed over the money and waited until the change was counted back. I thanked the little boy and resisted the urge to wink or make a joke. I remembered how important it was when you were young and trying to seem grown up that you were taken seriously. We shouldn't forget what being young feels like, even when we are young no longer.

His grandfather smiled down at his broom as he swept. I handed over the money and waited until the change was counted back. I thanked the little boy and resisted the urge to wink or make a joke. I remembered how important it was when you were young and trying to seem grown up that you were taken seriously. We shouldn't forget what being young feels like, even when we are young no longer.

On the street again, with Grandma's ladybug on my shoulder and the golden spring light making me squint, I headed for the park. The geese would be back. honking their news and splashing the cold lake water around their long black necks. I would find a bench, take my muffin from my bag, open my paper, and look for things to laugh about. The jewelry box. On my dresser,

On the street again, with Grandma's ladybug on my shoulder and the golden spring light making me squint, I headed for the park. The geese would be back. honking their news and splashing the cold lake water around their long black necks. I would find a bench, take my muffin from my bag, open my paper, and look for things to laugh about. The jewelry box. On my dresser,

On the street again, with Grandma's ladybug on my shoulder and the golden spring light making me squint, I headed for the park. The geese would be back. honking their news and splashing the cold lake water around their long black necks. I would find a bench, take my muffin from my bag, open my paper, and look for things to laugh about. The jewelry box. On my dresser,

beside the stack of books that are waiting to be read, and the framed photo of my sweetheart and me on one of our first dates. There's a jewelry box. It's made of dark walnut and lined with green velvet. that must have been a bright emerald when it was first fitted into place by my grandfather's hands, but has faded over the years into the soft green of reindeer moss.

beside the stack of books that are waiting to be read, and the framed photo of my sweetheart and me on one of our first dates. There's a jewelry box. It's made of dark walnut and lined with green velvet. that must have been a bright emerald when it was first fitted into place by my grandfather's hands, but has faded over the years into the soft green of reindeer moss.

beside the stack of books that are waiting to be read, and the framed photo of my sweetheart and me on one of our first dates. There's a jewelry box. It's made of dark walnut and lined with green velvet. that must have been a bright emerald when it was first fitted into place by my grandfather's hands, but has faded over the years into the soft green of reindeer moss.

He crafted it many years ago, for my grandmother, out in the workshop in his garage. It was a rare creation for him. He was mostly a fixer, a mender, who could step in when the furnace was on the fritz, or when the attic stairs were stuck. He'd stand with hands on hips and just look at the problem for a while, picturing where the trouble was and how to sort it out.

He crafted it many years ago, for my grandmother, out in the workshop in his garage. It was a rare creation for him. He was mostly a fixer, a mender, who could step in when the furnace was on the fritz, or when the attic stairs were stuck. He'd stand with hands on hips and just look at the problem for a while, picturing where the trouble was and how to sort it out.

He crafted it many years ago, for my grandmother, out in the workshop in his garage. It was a rare creation for him. He was mostly a fixer, a mender, who could step in when the furnace was on the fritz, or when the attic stairs were stuck. He'd stand with hands on hips and just look at the problem for a while, picturing where the trouble was and how to sort it out.

Then he'd slip a screwdriver from his shirt pocket and go to work. But for this box, he'd been starting from scratch. Not mending, but creating. He'd sketched out the shape with a flat carpenter's pencil onto the pages of a steno notebook in the garage and gone looking for the right piece of wood.