Then he looked towards the assembled crowd.
"I came for the papers," he said. "You have to sign..."
My eyes fell on the folder.
Thomas looked towards the window of Noah's room.
I walked away from him.
Only one box remained unopened.
The one with the black car.
I was no longer afraid of him.
I lifted the lid.
There were no baby items inside, just a small wooden plaque.
His words brought another torrent of tears.
NOAH'S STROLLERS
When one family is ready to let go, another family should never have to start from scratch.
One last letter lay beneath it.
Kate,
This morning your kindness became something bigger than any of us.
Every stroller on this lawn will be given to a family struggling to care for a baby. When another parent finds the strength to pass on their child's belongings, we'll add another stroller.
We hope that one day there will be hundreds.
We thought the project deserved a name.
Thank you for giving us one.
Noah's room had become the project's first donation.
I placed my palm against the wooden board.
"My little one," I whispered, hot tears streaming down my face. "You're finally home."
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