Chapter 17 - The Photograph One Saturday, David opened the final box from their old house.
Inside were childhood toys.
Old documents.
Photographs.
He found one picture of himself as a little boy sitting beside his mother.
He stared at it.
The boy in the photograph was smiling.
He looked happy.
David suddenly felt tears in his eyes.
Leah came beside him.
"You okay?"
"I think so."
He held the photograph.
"I used to wonder why I couldn't remember certain things."
Leah said nothing.
"I blamed myself."
She touched his shoulder.
"You were a child."
David nodded.
For years, he had believed survival meant becoming strong enough to fight everyone.
Now he understood differently.
Survival sometimes meant becoming gentle enough to stop blaming yourself.
He placed the photograph back in the box.
Then he closed the lid.
May you like
Not because he wanted to forget.
Because he finally understood that remembering didn't mean returning.
