It was the most accurate picture of our family I’d ever seen.

That evening, after Evelyn went home, Poppy climbed onto the sofa beside me.

“Grandma, do you think Mama would be proud of me?”

I held her close.

“I know she’d be proud of the way you look after other people.

But she’d be proud of you on days you don’t do anything special, too.

You don’t have to earn being loved.”

Poppy rested her head against my shoulder.