Someone was approaching the classroom.
I looked at Professor Hayes.
He seemed nervous.
It was the first time I’d seen it like this.
The door opened.
A woman of just over sixty entered, holding an old brown box in her hands.
As soon as he saw me, he stood still.
Then he took a hand to his mouth.
His eyes filled with tears.
“My God,” he whispered. You’re exactly like her.
I stared at her.
“Equal to who?
Professor Hayes sat slowly.
“To your mother.
I felt that everything inside me stopped.
My mother had died when I was five.
My father almost never talked about his years in college.
Did you know my mother?
The woman came over.
I was her best friend.
I looked at Professor Hayes.
He spoke quietly.
And I was his teacher.
I didn’t know what to think.
The woman placed the box on the desk.
At the top was my name.
EMILY.
What is this?
Professor Hayes took a deep breath.
Your mother was very ill. I knew I might not live long enough to see you grow.
I slowly put my hand on the box.
There were dozens of envelopes inside.
In each one he had written an age or a special occasion.
“For Emily’s 10th birthday.”
