Theo placed the stone inside with a photograph of Frank, a toy airplane, and the first birthday card he had received from Maya.

“What about your treasures, Mama?” he asked.

I looked around the room.

On the desk sat my designs for the next clinic.

Beside the window was my mother’s letter, framed in simple wood.

Down the hall, Frank was teaching Maya how to fix a lamp while complaining that nobody made proper switches anymore.

“I think most of my treasures are people,” I told him.

Theo considered that.