ADVERTISEMENT
‘What…?’ He looked across the grass. ‘What is this?’
Linda answered before I could say anything.
Thomas frowned.
I don’t understand.
‘You wouldn’t do that,’ I said, as I ran my fingers over a baby blanket. ‘You left before you had the chance.’
He stared at me.
Then he looked at the crowd gathered there.
“I came for the papers,” he said. “You have to sign…”
I looked at the folder.
Thomas looked at the window of Noah’s room.
I left him.
Only one box was still unopened.
The one in the black car.
I was no longer afraid of him.
I lifted the lid.
Inside were no baby items, only a small wooden plate.
His words unleashed a flood of tears once again.
NOAH’S LITTLE POLLES
When a family is ready to let go of another family, no other family has to start all over again.
Beneath it lay a final letter.
Kate,
This morning your kindness has become greater than any of us.
Every stroller found on this lawn is donated to a family struggling to care for a baby. When another parent finds the strength to donate their child’s belongings, we add a new stroller to the collection.
We hope that one day there will be hundreds.
We felt that the project deserved a name.
Thank you for giving us one.
Noah’s nursery was the first donation to the project.
I placed my palm against the wooden plank.
‘My little one,’ I whispered, the tears still warm on my face. ‘You are finally home.’
