Its surface was scratched, the chain replaced many times, the tiny hinge on the back repaired by Ruth when he was a teenager.

“I used to think this was a message from someone who didn’t want me,” he said.

“Then I learned it was from someone who did.”

I took his hand.

“You were wanted, Tobias.

Every single day.”

He looked toward the family gathered near the trees.

“I know,” he said.