I could have told her that fear had cost me years of knowing what my grandfather wanted me to hear.

Instead I asked, “Can I open them?”

Her eyes filled.

“They’re yours.”

The first began with Walter describing the first snowfall of the year.

He wondered whether I still kept extra socks in my boots.

He said the hickory tree was growing crooked and he was too stubborn to cut it down.

The second spoke of his hospital visits.