Chapter 15 - Lily’s Heritage
"Papa! Look what I found!"
Lily came barreling down the hallway, her pigtails flying wildly behind her. She collided with my legs, holding up a dusty, leather-bound photo album she had excavated from the bottom of a bookshelf. She was seven years old, an age where curiosity was her primary language.
We sat together on the living room rug, and she opened the heavy pages. The album contained pictures of my grandfather, a man who had built boats with his bare hands, and photos of my mother when she was a young, vibrant woman.
"Who is this?" Lily asked, pointing a tiny finger at a photograph of me in my late twenties. I was wearing a sharp, expensive suit, my face hard and unsmiling, standing in front of a corporate building I used to own.
I looked at the stranger in the photograph. "That was me, a long time ago. Before I knew what was important."
Lily tilted her head, her big brown eyes studying my face. "You look angry."
"I was," I admitted softly. "I thought being tough made me strong. But I was wrong." I tapped her gently on the nose. "Do you know what makes a person truly strong?"
May you like
"What?"
"Love," I said, pulling her into a tight hug. "And the courage to be kind, even when the world isn't. Remember that, little bird."
