Teen room decor
“We’re working on something,” she said. “Together.”
I looked back at the floor.
That’s when I recognized one of the photos.
My father—her grandfather—lying in a hospital bed, smiling faintly. Another showed a small park nearby. Another was a stack of children’s books beside a handwritten sign: Community Reading Project.
My throat tightened. “What is this?”
My daughter hesitated, then spoke carefully. “You know how Grandpa’s been struggling since the stroke. He keeps saying he feels… useless.”
I nodded.
“Noah’s grandmother helps run a local community center,” she continued. “They need volunteers. And Grandpa used to be a teacher.”
Noah stepped closer. “We thought maybe we could help him feel needed again. Start a reading group. For younger kids. He could help plan it. Teach again.”
I looked down at the cardboard.
This wasn’t random creativity. It was a blueprint. Dates. Tasks. Budgets written in pencil. A draft letter asking neighbors to donate books. A section labeled: How to Make Kids Feel Welcome.
“You’ve been doing this every Sunday?” I asked.
