Rain tapped against the window 🎵. Lila sat on the rug in front of a big box. A lonely feather poked out from inside.

She gave it a pull.

Out popped a brown hat 🎵 from between some scarves. It had a crooked brim and a tiny hole. Grandpa always said that was exactly where his best ideas flew in.

Lila put it on her head. It slipped right down to her nose.

Grandpa had passed away a few months ago 🎵. The little girl missed him very much. She missed their walks together, his laugh 🎵, and how he could turn even a normal breakfast into a grand adventure 🎵.

Dad sat down next to her. Together, they started taking things out of the box 🎵.

Under a photo album lay an unfinished, flattened paper lantern. On three of its sides, Grandpa had drawn a picture: a pancake, a duck, and a sock. The fourth side was blank.

Next to it was a little note:

“For Lila. For a day that needs a little bit of light.”

“Shall we finish it?” asked Dad.

Lila was already running to get her crayons.

They placed the paper lantern flat on the table. The little girl looked closely at the first side. It showed a wobbly pancake.

Lila smiled a big smile.

She remembered that pancake.

Oh, she remembered it well 🎵!

That morning, Grandpa’s kitchen smelled like sweet vanilla. Flour covered the counter, his apron, and the very tip of his nose. He looked as if a tiny snow cloud had sneezed right on him.

Grandpa decided to flip the pancake in the air.

He gave the pan a shake.

Flip!

The pancake flew into the air and landed exactly where it was supposed to.

Lila clapped her hands 🎵.

But the second pancake did not follow the first 🎵.

It landed right on Grandpa’s head.

The edge of the pancake hung over his forehead like a floppy little haircut.

Grandpa didn’t even blink. He turned around very slowly, as if he were showing off a fancy new hat.

“A bit too thin for winter,” he said.

Lila laughed 🎵 so hard that the legs of her kitchen stool began to shake.