A blue-and-white box with a silver ribbon. And a note: “For my grandson” — written in that familiar, harsh handwriting.

We immediately knew who had been there. My mother-in-law.

She didn’t knock, didn’t ring the doorbell, didn’t congratulate him in person. She simply left the box and drove away. The entryway camera later showed that she had stood there for barely a minute — she glanced around, set down the gift, and almost ran off, as if afraid to stay even one second longer.