Every morning since my son Ethan’s death a year ago, I’ve found a freshly baked cookie in his room. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but the cookies kept appearing. No one else had a key, and I wasn’t baking them in my sleep. My friend Linda dismissed it as my imagination, but I needed to know the truth.
One night, I stayed awake in Ethan’s room and saw a shadowy figure placing a cookie on his desk. I chased the boy outside, where he introduced himself as Michael. He had found Ethan’s diary in his attic and was leaving cookies to honor him, believing it would bring me comfort.
Michael and I soon became friends, baking cookies together and sharing stories about Ethan. We discovered that Ethan’s diary had ended up in Michael’s attic by accident, revealing Ethan’s wish to stay connected through Michael.
