“I was guarding it.”
Those words nearly shattered me.
What Randy Left Inside
Sarah carefully placed the backpack on my kitchen table like it contained something sacred.
“Open it,” she whispered.
My trembling fingers slowly unzipped the bag.
Inside were knitting needles, lavender and white yarn, and a crumpled paper pattern.
Wrapped carefully in tissue paper was a handmade stuffed unicorn.
It leaned awkwardly to one side. One leg was unfinished. Its tiny tail stuck out crookedly.
“Craft class,” Sarah explained quickly. “Ms. Bell said handmade gifts mean more because they take time and love. Most kids made bookmarks… but Randy wanted to make you a unicorn.”
I stared at the toy.
“Why a unicorn? Randy loved dinosaurs.”
Sarah wiped her nose on her sleeve.
“He said you liked unicorns.”
Tears blurred my vision.
Months earlier, I had casually mentioned liking a chipped unicorn mug I owned.
He remembered.
Of course he remembered.
Underneath the yarn, I found a card written in Randy’s uneven handwriting.
“Mom,
It’s not finished yet.
Don’t laugh. Sarah says the horn is the hardest part.
Ms. Bell said we might not finish before Mother’s Day.
I love you more than cereal breakfasts.
Love, Randy.”
A broken sound escaped my throat before I could stop it.
Sarah started crying too.
Then she whispered:
“There’s more.”
