The remaining lunchboxes contained personal objects contributed by participating families. Tessa’s large metal box held items symbolizing a life many people had once assumed she would never have.
The employee badge represented the seven years she had spent working at her job. The key was to her own apartment. And the photograph captured her wedding day.
“People had plenty of opinions about what I would never be able to do,” she told Noah. “It turns out people don’t always understand someone else’s future as well as they think they do.”
Then Tessa gave Noah a new lunchbox. Inside were a sandwich, fruit, juice, and a cookie.
Noah looked down at it and frowned.
“It’s only lunch,” he said.
“Exactly,” Tessa answered.
That afternoon, Lucy was still happily spinning in her red dress when Noah’s grandmother finally asked Hannah a question instead of jumping to conclusions.
“Can Lucy have some cake?”
Later, the lawn was completely empty. Noah sat on our porch eating his sandwich while Lucy reached over for a bite. He tore off a small piece for her, then immediately took a big bite of his own.
“I’m eating too, Mom,” he assured me.
Soon, jelly stained the front of Lucy’s beautiful red dress, but I didn’t rush to clean it. She was laughing, Noah was eating, and the dress was fulfilling the exact purpose he had bought it for.
