I packed it carefully into a lunchbox.

I added a thick slice of the apple pie I had baked the day before.

And then, on a folded scrap of paper, I wrote him a note, and I tucked it under the fork where he would find it when he sat down to eat.

I did not labor over the words.

I just wrote what was in my heart, the thing I had been wanting to say to him for months and had kept swallowing.

I meant it lightly, that morning, the way you mean a small affectionate note tucked into a lunchbox.