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My grandmother kept a candy bowl on a table by her front door. Growing up, I would sneak butterscotches and strawberry sweets. During the pandemic, my grandmother moved into assisted living. On my first visit after lockdown, I saw how much of her 90-year life she had discarded to fit into her new residence. Yet, she’d saved the familiar bowl. Driving home, I discovered that she’d slipped its candy into my purse. Years before, when I had confessed my childhood thievery, she laughed. “Why do you think I kept it on that low table? It’s always been for you.”