Then I set two bowls on the kitchen counter, remembering Grandma making oatmeal while I worked at her table.
I wished she could have seen how far we’d come.
But I no longer needed a television announcement, a company valuation, or my father’s approval to know that those years had mattered.
Grandma had believed in me when I had nothing to show her. And that was worth more than everything the news could announce.
