Chapter 20
Spring fully returned in the middle of April,
bringing a fresh,
vibrant wave of bright green leaves,
and warm breezes that smelled of wet earth and blooming flowers.
It was the anniversary of that fateful,
life-changing phone call,
the exact day that had once marked the breaking of my world,
but now served as a quiet celebration of our collective rebirth.
I woke up early,
before the sun had fully crested the horizon,
and walked downstairs in the silent,
peaceful dawn,
making a cup of tea and standing by the kitchen window.
The driveway was dry,
and the grass was covered in sparkling dew,
reflecting the soft,
pink light of the early morning sun,
that promised a beautiful,
clear day ahead.
I thought about the woman I used to be three years ago,
the one who was terrified of her own shadow and voice,
and I sent her a silent,
deeply compassionate thank you,
for having the incredible bravery to finally say enough.
Grant walked softly into the kitchen,
his hair messy from sleep and his eyes warm with affection,
wrapping his arms around my waist exactly like he always did,
and resting his chin heavily on my right shoulder.
He looked out the window at the blooming yard,
and softly asked me what I was thinking about,
his voice a low,
comforting rumble against my back.
I leaned into his solid,
unwavering warmth,
and told him I was thinking about how much I loved our life,
and how every painful tear had been entirely worth it,
to reach this beautiful,
uncomplicated peace.
He turned me around in his arms and kissed me deeply,
a slow,
intentional promise of his enduring,
unconditional love,
and told me that the best years were still ahead of us.
We heard the familiar,
heavy thud of footsteps upstairs,
followed by Finn’s loud,
demanding voice asking for pancakes,
and Noah arguing that waffles were mathematically superior.
The quiet spell of the morning was instantly broken,
replaced by the loud,
chaotic joy that defined our daily existence,
and I wouldn't have traded that noise for anything in the universe.
I turned toward the stove to start making breakfast,
pulling out bowls and flour with a bright,
genuine smile,
knowing that my mother would call later just to chat,
and Maris would text me a funny meme about parenting.
The promise I had made to myself and my boys,
to break the cycles of pain and build a home of truth,
was no longer just a desperate,
hopeful vow.
It was our daily,
breathing,
magnificent reality,
a life where we were wholly,
May you like
loudly,
and forever free.
