One Day, My 7-Year-Old Daughter Came Home From Grandpa’s House and Cheerfully Said, “Mom, Did You Know Grandpa Always Tells Me to Close My Eyes? Then We Go Into the Bathroom Together and Play Our Secret Game.” I Froze. When I Asked What Kind of Game, She Replied, “Grandpa Said You’d Definitely Be Angry If You Found Out. He Even Asked Me Not to Tell Anyone Until We Finished.” My Heart Began Pounding. I Immediately Grabbed My Car Keys and Drove to My Father’s House. But When I Opened the Bathroom Door Without Warning, My Knees Nearly Gave Way, and I Burst Into Tears…

Inside the bathtub stood an elaborate miniature wooden town, complete with little bridges, houses, and a tiny harbor.

But what shocked me most was the photograph hanging on the wall.

A large photograph of my mother.

It was a picture I hadn’t seen in years.

Dad turned around.

His eyes were red from crying.

“Sarah… you came early.”

I couldn’t speak.

He slowly stood up.

“I wanted to finish it before showing you.”

I stared at the miniature town in the bathtub.

And suddenly, I remembered.

When I was six years old, my mother used to make little paper boats with me every evening.

We floated them in the bathtub and pretended we were traveling to different cities around the world.

My father built tiny wooden bridges and houses for our imaginary adventures.

Back then, our family had very little money.

We couldn’t afford expensive toys.

But those games were some of the most beautiful memories of my childhood.