My name is Loretta Dean, and this is how I earned my self-respect back after my daughter informed me my room smelt horrible. So I put my things in boxes and sold the house.
I didn’t want to hear. I was simply passing through the kitchen to fetch more tea. Paige was on the phone and walking barefoot over the tile. One hand was slicing the air like it always did when she was mad.
“She doesn’t even see it,” she said. “Her room smells bad.” It smells like the air at a nursing home. Heavy, like old cloth and something medicinal, I guess. She laughed, a short, sharp sound I didn’t know.
I stopped in the middle of my step. The chipped mug I was holding rattled. I kept it steady with my other hand, being careful not to spill. I wasn’t hiding or sneaking around; I was standing right outside the door. Paige didn’t look back. She didn’t lower her voice.
She then stated, “It’s getting into the hallway.” “I sprayed the whole bottom floor, but it seems to stick to everything.”
My heart didn’t race. It slowed down. I backed up without making a sound. The hardwood floor didn’t create any noise as I walked on it with my slippers. I went back to the room they had let me stay in, which they dubbed the “guest room.” I discreetly closed the door behind me. Not to hide, but to protect anything that had been opened too quickly. My cup of tea had cooled considerably. I put it on the dresser, where I keep my vitamins, folded nightgowns, and a picture of Paige when she was seven and had no front teeth.
I looked at her little face. The face that used to beg me to sing one more lullaby and cry when I went for my night job at Memorial Hospital. The one who came to me in the morning with paint on her fingers and told me things. Now she walks by me without touching my arm. She thanks me for doing her laundry like I’m a kind neighbor and not her mom.
Three months ago, I turned seventy-seven. Two weeks later, I had the stroke. Not much, just enough to make it hard to walk and plan mornings. Paige phoned right away. “Mom, you shouldn’t be alone. You can stay with us until things get better.”
I used to not need anyone’s permission to be. For forty-two years, I worked as a nurse at Memorial, working nights and bringing babies into the world while holding the hands of people who were leaving it. People put their lives, their last words, and their first breaths in my hands. Now I need permission to change the thermostat.
I picked up the mug again. The crack on the edge had gotten a little bigger. I ran my fingers over it and felt the rough edge. It was another broken thing that was trying to stay useful. I then sat down in the armchair next to the window. The roses I planted last spring were starting to wilt, and the edges were drying up and breaking because they had too much sun. Keep working on it, just like me.
I still keep the pink linen dress in a garment bag, behind the winter coats I don’t wear anymore. Five years ago, I bought it as a gift for myself when I retired. There are mother-of-pearl buttons down the front, a soft collar, and beautiful pleats. I thought about wearing it to breakfast with friends on Sundays, maybe at a quiet bistro with genuine tablecloths and sunlight coming in through big windows. I never put it on. There were never any brunches. The buddies either died or moved away. I moved into Paige’s guest room with a suitcase and a vow that it would only be for a short while.
I sold my apartment. It was on a quiet street with windows that faced south, just the kind of place I thought I’d grow old in. The money helped with the down payment on this house. Paige’s name is on the mortgage, and my savings are in the closing. At first, it felt like we all lived there. I made muffins, watched Tyler and Zoe while Paige was in meetings, and paid the water bill without being asked. After that, they moved my boxes to the garage and took my chair out of the living room. The Wi-Fi password post-it no longer had my name on it. I was the quiet hum in the background: the folded towels, the hot tea, and the extra hand when it was time to pick up the kids from school when things got busy.
“Mom, can you get the kids today?” “Paige never waits for my answer. “Mason has that big client meeting, and I have to go over the budget.” She’s already typing on her phone and is almost out the door in her fitting suit. Her hair is pulled up so tightly that it appears like it aches.
Mason works in finance, which has to do with investments and portfolios. He talks about it at dinner sometimes, with his eyes on his plate and his voice going over my head to Paige at the other end of the table. He isn’t mean; he’s just not there, even when he’s right there. I caught him in the kitchen this morning preparing coffee. I said, “Good morning,” as I reached for my tablets. He nodded, but his eyes were on his phone. “Morning.” He got a text and left. No more talking.
I told myself they didn’t want to hurt me; they were just busy and had a lot to do. But even if I tried to explain, it didn’t make the frigid looks feel any better or stop people from gazing at me like I was taking up too much air.
Tyler is fifteen now, with long arms and legs and bashful smiles. He would burrow onto my lap to hear stories. He says, “Hey, Grandma,” but he doesn’t look up from his phone. Zoe is twelve, which is a tough age between being a child and whatever comes after. I heard her tell a buddy on the phone last week, “I can’t have anyone over.” My grandma is living with us. “It’s complicated.” It wasn’t complicated when I paid for her to go to summer camp. But it’s not the kids’ fault. They learn by watching. And what they see is their mother walking around me like I’m a piece of furniture she wants to give away.
I used to place a few pots of tomatoes near the kitchen window. One time, when I was watering them, Paige went by and said, “Mom, do you mind moving these?” She didn’t say it in a rude way, but not in a kind one either. “You know, these don’t really go with the appearance.
I nodded. I put them behind the shed where only the raccoons could see them. The tomatoes didn’t get as sweet as they used to. I still took care of them every day.
Last week, Paige left a designer candle at my door. The label stated “Clean Linen,” but it smelled like bleach and despair. “Don’t take it personally,” she added. “Sometimes the hallway just feels stuffy,” I said again. I tend to nod a lot in this place.
James said that when I sang in the church choir, my voice sounded like warm honey. Now, when I hum gently to myself, I sometimes stop in the middle of a note because I feel like the vibration in my throat is taking up too much space.
They chatted about my doctor’s appointment at supper last night. Not with me, but about me. Paige told Mason, “The neurologist said her recovery is plateauing.” “We should probably think about getting more regular care.”
“I am right here,” I murmured, but my voice sounded softer than I wanted it to.
“Sure, Mom,” Paige said, blinking as if she had forgotten. “We’re just worried.”
I heard Paige on the phone again later. “It’s getting worse.” She lost her glasses three times last week; I found them in the fridge once. I wanted to explain, but when people think you’re incompetent, explanations sound like excuses.
Then there was the expensive candle that smelled like “Clean Linen.” I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, but I wasn’t upset. After that, I started taking two showers a day. I washed my nightgowns every day because I was afraid the fragrance would get on the family’s clothes.
I couldn’t sleep one night, so I went to the kitchen for tea. The open refrigerator lit up Tyler’s face. He said, “Hey, Grandma,” in shock. He said all of a sudden, “Mom’s been acting strange lately.” “Everyone is worried about the house and other things.” “Because of Mason’s promotion, she keeps telling us we need to ‘present well.'” He sighed and let his shoulders drop. “I heard her tell Dad that she was going to put you in a home, like a care home or something. She said that would be best for everyone.
The kettle began to create a thin, high-pitched noise that sounded like a scream from a distance. I switched it off with a hand that didn’t feel like my own. “I understand,” I said.
Tyler got upset and said, “I told her it was messed up,” and all of a sudden he looked older than 15. “I love you like family.” He hugged me for a short time, but it was real, and then he went upstairs. I didn’t make the tea. I went back to my room and sat in the dark, thinking about how easily we may become a problem.
Until dinner, no one remembered it was my seventy-seventh birthday. “Oh my God, Mom, it’s your birthday!” Paige said right away. I completely forgot.
Later, when I was alone in my room, I unlocked the closet and brought out the pink linen dress, which was still in its bag. I put it on the bed and touched the fabric. I thought about James then. He used to kiss my hand and tell me I was the most beautiful women in the world and make us dance in the kitchen.
I put the dress on without thinking. It fit differently now, but it still looked amazing. I gazed in the little mirror at me. My hair is gray, there are wrinkles around my eyes, and my hands are old but still strong. I looked like an old lady in a pretty clothing. But something changed in me. A small spark came back to life. I remembered who I was. Not just Paige’s mom and not just a hassle. I was Loretta Dean. I had helped women give birth and comforted those who were dying. I had loved a good man a lot. But I let them take that dignity away from me.
I sat on the edge of the bed and began to write a list instead of a diary. The first thing is my name, then my memories, and then my choices.
The next morning, when I was drinking tea, Paige came running in. “Mom, can you pick up the dry cleaning today?” Zoe has a dentist’s appointment at four.
I really did glance at her for the first time in months. I said “no” in a quiet voice.
She stopped. “What?”
“I have things to do today.”
“Plans? What are the plans? “
“Just plans.” I had some tea.
She glanced at me, torn between being angry and puzzled. “Okay,” she finally murmured. “We’ll talk about this later.”
That afternoon, I wore the pink dress and went to eat at the tiny French café in the city. I sat by myself at a table by the window and asked for a glass of white wine. The server called me “Madame.” A woman at the table next to me spoke kind things about my clothing. For two hours, I didn’t bother anyone. I was just a woman having lunch.
When I returned back, Paige was in the kitchen. “Where have you been?” “I’ve been attempting to get in touch with you.
“I had lunch.”
“That dress? Where? Who with? “
“At Petit Chou.” And with me.
She looked at me and said, “Mom, are you okay?” “
I smiled, and it seemed strange to have a real smile on my face. “I feel better than I have in a long time.”
That night, I wrote down another thing I needed: courage. I would need it for what happened next. I wouldn’t keep making myself smaller to fit into spaces that were built too small for me on purpose. I wouldn’t say sorry for being alive. I unlocked the drawer next to my bed and took out the envelope that said “Title—Willow Property.” I hadn’t looked at it in a year, but it was still in my name. This house, which my daughter now considered her own, was still mine in the eyes of the law.
I got up the next morning, put on decent clothes, did my makeup for the first time in months, and called a taxi. “Where are you going?” “Paige asked.
“I have a meeting.”
“With whom? Do you want me to take you?”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” I’ve already arranged for a ride.
If it weren’t so sad, it would have been comical how puzzled she looked. The first place I went was the office of my old lawyer. I needed to figure out what I could accomplish.
Raymond Teague rose up and remarked, “Loretta Dean.” “It’s been too long.”
I told him, “I need to know exactly where I stand legally.” “With the house.”
He nodded, which wasn’t surprising. “I was wondering when you would ask. I still have all the forms.” Your daughter never filed the deed transfer we talked about.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” “”
“That means, Loretta, that you still own the house completely.” That gives you the right to sell it or give it away.
I felt a wave of relief go over me, but then I felt sorry right away. I told him everything, from the flame to the conversations I heard and how I felt like I was getting in the way.
Raymond said, “Loretta, as the homeowner, you have the right to go into any room in your house.” His eyes were pleasant yet troubled. Do you really want to know what’s in Paige’s office? “
“I need to know,” I said firmly.
That afternoon, I came home to a quiet house. I went to Paige’s desk. I wasn’t being sneaky; it was my house. When I opened the middle drawer to get a stamp, I spotted a burgundy folder with the words “Estate Planning” written on it in Paige’s handwriting.
I took it out. The first page was a printout of my life insurance policy, with notes written in the margins. The next thing is a bunch of brochures about places to live with help. One had a sticky note that said, “Mid-tier care, good reputation.” “Ask about Medicaid conversion.” Then I noticed my name on a printed copy of my will, with notes next to my assets. There were copies of my bank statements, a letter from my doctor that I had never seen before, and a partially filled-out power of attorney form that just needed my signature.
I sat there for a long time, not angry, just empty. My own daughter was planning my future without me, figuring out how much I was worth, and getting ready to take over my life. I returned to my room, got a manila folder, and wrote in heavy black pen, “When They Forget I’m Still Alive.” I duplicated everything. I didn’t face her. There was no reason.
Dr. Elaine Foster worked with me at Memorial for almost thirty years. I hadn’t seen her in about a year when she came to my door on a Tuesday afternoon. She hugged me and said, “Loretta Dean.” “These days, it’s hard to get in touch with you.”
I told her everything over tea. When I was done, she said, “You know, I’ve been wanting to tell you about this place I found.” The name of it is Horizon Gardens. It’s a co-op for older people, but it’s not like those awful places. “It’s more like a neighborhood of small houses.”
She showed me pictures on her phone of cute cottages, gardens full of flowers, and people going about their daily lives. “I joined their board last year,” she said. “A unit just became available last week.” It had one bedroom, a private patio, and windows that faced south. She looked at me in a way that made me think. “Just like your old apartment.” Loretta, you don’t have to leave. “You don’t have to shrink until there’s nothing left.”
Paige got home at that time. I told Paige, “This is Dr. Elaine Foster.” They said kind things to each other, but they were also frigid. Elaine noticed what was going on in the room and handed me her card. “Please think about what I said, Loretta. You can call me any time.
After Elaine left, Paige looked at the beautiful tomatoes and basil she had brought from her garden. “Where are you going to put them? My herbs are all over the kitchen windowsill.”
I took them up and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll find a place.”
Raymond Teague said, “A trust.” “That’s what I think is best.” You would give the house to a business that you own. You can set some rules. The most crucial thing is that you still own the property.
“Would Paige know?”
“Not unless you tell her.”
I gave this some thinking. Freedom, protection, and a place that was truly mine again.
Raymond’s voice altered as he said, “There’s something else.” “I’m worried about that power of attorney form.” If Paige persuaded you to sign it, she might take over your money and medical decisions.
I felt a chill pass through me. “What do you think?”
“First, we file to get back any powers of attorney that are already in existence. Then we make a new one and give it to someone you can trust entirely. I immediately thought of Elaine.
When I left Raymond’s office, I had a plan. Steps that are easy to follow. A way to go ahead. I have always put other people before of me. I had given everything I had, and there was almost nothing left. But I wasn’t done yet. There was yet enough of me to save myself. When I arrived home, I contacted Elaine. “I want to see that unit at Horizon Gardens,” I said. “If it’s still there.”
She smiled and said on the phone, “I’ll come get you at ten tomorrow.”
Horizon Gardens was hidden by tall crepe myrtles. There were a lot of living things inside the barrier. There were blossoming plants, a small fountain, benches, and people—old people with gray hair and wrinkles who were going about their lives. They grinned and gazed up at us as we walked by. No one could see through me. The unit was a little cottage with a front porch at the end of a brick path. The inside was small but well-planned. There was a living room with huge windows that faced south, a small kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom with grab bars that weren’t too conspicuous. It didn’t have any furnishings, but it had a lot of potential.
“Elaine asked, “What do you think?”
“It feels like a place where I can breathe.”
The buy-in was big, but it was fair. The monthly cost was less than I thought it would be. Raymond had told me how much the house was worth, so it was more than possible. Margot, the front desk manager, came to the door with an application folder. “Just in case,” she said with a smile.
“Yes,” I said before I could alter my mind. “I’d really like that.”
That night, I dreamed about tomatoes blossoming in the sun and windows I could open without permission. When I woke up, I felt lighter than I had in years. I started putting my things in boxes with labels like “Kitchen—Keep,” “Donate,” and “Not for Them.”
I moved around the home differently. I stood up straighter and was more honest. Paige noticed. One night she said, “You seem different these days. More… here.
“I guess I’m starting to feel like myself again.”
“Is it the new drug? “
“Maybe,” I said, without correcting her. “Or maybe I’m just trying to find my way back.”
A few days later, she came into my room and said, “Mom, I’ve been thinking.” “It’s time for us to talk about the future.” Mason and I were looking at some pretty great communities…
I made a mark on my page. “You seem to have given it a lot of thought.”
“We have.” We only want what’s best for you.
I answered, “That’s very nice of you.” “But I can make my own decisions.”
“Of course you are,” she said, her face suggesting that she was a little annoyed. “I have some brochures in my office. I’ll bring them to you.”
Mason being in the kitchen the next morning was out of the ordinary. “Paige said she talked to you about the… living arrangements.” The united front.
“Yes, she did.”
“We don’t want you to go…”
“You don’t have to explain,” I responded softly. “I get it,” he said, and his face revealed a lot of relief. I poured myself a cup of coffee and brought it back upstairs, which made him a little perplexed. Allow him to think. That night, I had finalized my application at Horizon Gardens. I was supposed to meet Raymond on Friday.
Paige brought the brochures that night, just as she said she would. She pointed to a big skyscraper and said, “This one is only thirty minutes away.” “And they have different levels of care, so you won’t have to move again when your needs change.”
I said, “It looks really nice.”
“So you’ll think about it?”
“Let me look over these first.” “It’s a big decision.” She grinned, believing I agreed with her. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I chose tomorrow. It was time to get things rolling tomorrow.
Paige’s face said she didn’t believe it. “What did you do?” “
We were at the kitchen table. “I talked to a lawyer,” I stated again in a soft voice.
“Choices that are legal? What for? “
“For the house.” “For my money.” “For my future.”
“I don’t understand. We’ve been talking about what’s going to happen to you in the future…
“No, Paige.” You have been making plans for my future. There is a difference. “You never asked me what I wanted.”
“That’s not true! We’ve only been thinking about what’s best for you!”
“Best for me or easiest for you?” Her eyes got larger. “Paige, I found the folder. The one in your office.” “Estate Planning.” With my life insurance, bank statements, pamphlets, and the power of attorney paperwork you wanted me to sign.
Her face turned pale. “You looked at my private papers!”
“In my house.” I still own the house. Look at the deed, Paige. My name is the only one on it.
She got up from the table. “You went to Dad’s old lawyer without telling me? After everything we’ve done for you?”
“Are you taking me in?” “I finally got up.” “This is my house, Paige.” I sold my condo to buy it. You made me feel like a stranger in my own home after that.
“That’s crazy!” You’re being paranoid! “
“Am I? The candle outside my door hides the smell of my “nursing home.” You told me to move my plants since they didn’t fit with your “aesthetic.” Are you going to put me in a place till you figure out how to get to my money? “
She folded her arms to keep herself safe. “Okay! Yes, I’ve been thinking about what I can do. Someone has to do it! You had a stroke, Mom. “You forget things.”
“I had a small stroke more than two years ago, but I’m much better now. I can live on my own just fine.”
“So what? You want to sell the house to make a point? “
“No, Paige.” I’m not like you. I don’t arrange other people’s life without their permission. I’m leaving.” I’ve already been given the go-ahead for a unit at Horizon Gardens.”
She blinked, which caused her lose her balance. “A place to retire?” “
“It’s a group of adults who live alone and care about each other.” The house will be in a trust. You and Mason will have six months to decide if you want to buy it from the trust at a fair price.
She sat back down and stared at me like I was a stranger. “When?”
“I move at the end of the month.”
She chuckled, and it sounded short and mean. “Is it a favor?” After utilizing legal methods and secret plans to catch me off guard? We both thought it was funny.
She changed her mind and asked, “What about the kids?” “This will kill them.”
“When was the last time either of them spent more than five minutes with me?” I shook my head. “They can come to see me whenever they want.”
Finally, she said, “I never meant for you to feel unwelcome.”
“I know,” I answered. “But Paige, what you want and what happens are not the same.”
Her silence spoke a lot. Later, Mason knocked on my door. “Paige told me what you decided,” he said. I understand; you could feel like no one cares. “We can fix that.”
“This isn’t about getting attention, Mason.”
“Then what is it about? It looks like you’re punishing Paige for trying to make plans for your care.”
“I’m not punishing anyone.” “I’m making the best choice for me.” He went around the room. “Have you thought about how this would affect the kids? For our own good? We can’t afford to buy this house at its current market value.
And there it was. The real worry. Not my health, but my money. I said, “The trust gives you six months.” “And you’ll have choices for how to pay for it.”
“Are you really going to do this?”
“Yes.”
Paige’s family was going away for the weekend at the right time. By 10 a.m., a man named Harold and Margot from the co-op came in an unmarked van. Elaine came a few minutes later. They helped me move the tomato pots, seventeen boxes, and two pieces of luggage from behind the shed. I only took what I needed, not everything. By lunchtime, the van was full.
“Do you want to write a note?” “Elaine asked. I had made one, but I chose something easier instead. I put a note that was folded in the middle of the kitchen counter. It said, “The house is now in a trust.” You have six months to decide if you want to buy it or move. Raymond Teague knows everything. I moved to a place where people want me to be. “Mom, please don’t call until you’re ready to really see me.”
Raymond had my phone number and address. I walked to the front door with my purse and didn’t look back. I breathed out and saw the house go away in the side mirror. No one yelled after me. Nobody even knew I was gone. But when they got back, the silence would be terrible. I’d already be unpacking my china in a place where people said my name like it meant something.
Horizon Gardens was my new home. It was small, but it felt like it was getting bigger around me. By the time night fell, I had unpacked everything. Elaine stayed, and we ate Chinese food directly out of the boxes. She raised her paper cup of green tea and said, “To new beginnings.”
In the morning, there was a knock on the door. Harold brought a potted mint plant and said, “Housewarming.” “Bingo on Wednesdays.” They weren’t required, but they were nice people. “Just so you know.” Later, while I was out and about, I ran into Georgia, Beverly, and Marcus. Everyone said hello to me by name. “You’re Elaine’s friend from Memorial, aren’t you?” “Georgia asked. “Thank God for the night nurse. “We need more medical people around here.” I agreed and felt important again.
Raymond called that night and said, “They’re back.” Your daughter isn’t thrilled. She thinks you’re not in your right mind and is threatening to take you to court.
“Is there anything she can do? “”
“Not successfully.” We’ve put down everything we know about your mental health. “The trust can’t be broken.” He stopped. “She needs your address and phone number.”
“Do you think she’s really ready to talk to me?”
He thought about it. “No.” Not yet.
“Then don’t give them to her.”
That night, my phone rang a lot. Paige, Mason, and even the kids called. The messages were all different: disbelief, anger, and begging. “How could you do this to us?” “Please come home, Mom.” “We’re worried about you.” I heard each one and knew what they meant: I had options, power, and worth.
Then I got a text message from a number I didn’t know. “Hey Grandma, it’s Tyler.” Where are you? Are you all right? “
I said back, “I’m fine, sweetie.” I have my own place now.
There was a long delay, and then they said, “Did I tell you that?” “
“Tyler, no.” It was a lot of things that happened over time. “It’s not your fault.”
“Can I see you?”
“Yes, but let’s wait a week or two for things to calm down.” I promise to get in touch with you soon.
“Okay.” I miss you.
“Sweetheart, I miss you too.”
That night, I went to a potluck in the common room. It was just Loretta, the new resident, the old night nurse, and the person who made great lemon bars. I walked home with a lightness in my step and stars in the sky. For the first time in years, I wasn’t fading. Every day, I was getting more and more visible.
The knock was loud and wouldn’t stop. Paige stood on my small porch with her arms crossed and asked, “Can I come in?” “”
She came in and glanced around my new house, looking for things that showed it wasn’t good enough. Instead, she observed a small but full house. “So this is where you went,” she said.
I scribbled a message that said, “This is where I moved to.” “There was no going away.” “
“A note? “She yelled, “You left a note and then disappeared after all we’ve done for you?” “
“I needed to be somewhere that made me feel welcome, not just a place to stay.”
“So you’re punishing us by taking away our home because you didn’t feel appreciated?” “”
“The house was always mine, Paige. I’m not punishing anyone. I’m just doing what’s best for me.”
“Why didn’t you just talk to us?” “”
The inquiry demonstrated that the person had no idea who they were. “I tried, Paige. For two years. “I told her about the candle and the folder. She blushed, which was nice of her.
“You don’t understand. We were trying to get ready…
“Without talking to me about any of it? No, Paige. You were trying to control me, and that’s a big difference.
“So that’s it?” “You’re just gone?” she finally questioned. “”
“I’m still here. I’m right here. You and the kids can come over whenever you want.” But I’m here on my own terms, and we need to respect one other. “I changed how I talked. “Paige, this isn’t about getting turned down. It’s about regaining my self-respect back.
She looked around once more. She said, “You seem… settled,” with a trace of sadness.
“I am.” For the first time in years, I feel like myself again.
She came to a stop at the door. “I just wanted to say that I never meant for you to feel like you weren’t welcome.” “I’m sorry if that’s how it came across.” It wasn’t the praise I was hoping for, but it was a start. “I know,” I said. “Intention and effect are not the same thing.”
A few days later, there came a soft knock. Tyler was there. He stepped up and gave me a warm hug. He said, “It smells like cookies.”
I responded, “It might,” if we make some.
We were standing in the kitchen, with our elbows touching. He cracked eggs too hard, spilled flour, and ate the dough. I didn’t fix anything. He said softly, “You were always there.” “At every game, all the school stuff.” I never really paid attention. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” You’re beginning to understand.
He came back the next week and the week after that. On his fourth visit, he took Zoe along. She waited for half a cookie before she started to thaw. “Mom said you left because you were angry with her,” she said.
“I left because I needed my own space,” I told them. “It wasn’t about being angry; it was about being joyful.
She thought about it. “Are you happy? “
I looked around my modest house that was full of light and said, “Yes, I’m really happy.”
Paige texted that night, “The kids came home happy.” Thanks… They miss you. Yes, we all do. “On our way.”
I replied back, “My door is always open.” “When you’re ready.” The dots came and went. But for the first time, I believed it could be possible to start over.
It had been six months. Mason and Paige decided to buy the house. Then, on a clear fall day, Paige came by herself with a box from the bakery. “I brought coffee cake,” she said. “From Mueller’s, your favorite.” We sat down at my little table. “I didn’t see you, Mom,” she said, looking me in the eye. “I was so busy taking care of everything that I lost sight of the guy in front of me. I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable and for planning your future without you.
I reached across the table and took her hand. “I also say I’m sorry for not saying something sooner.”
“What’s next?” she asked.
I merely said, “Forward.” “Not together, but connected.” “On new terms.”
“Are you coming for Thanksgiving?” she inquired as she left. “The kids would have a blast.” I would too.
“I’d be honored,” I said.
She smiled and said, “As a guest.” “Because you are our special guest.”
After she went, I sat on my terrace and watched the light slant across the lavender. I left a house where folks put up with me six months ago. I finally had a place to live where I felt welcome, and the bridges were slowly being built. I opened my closet that night and took out the pink linen dress. I wore it. I didn’t just see an old woman when I looked in the mirror; I saw someone who had gotten her dignity back. I would wear it to the dancing dinner in the neighborhood tomorrow. Harold had requested me to keep a waltz for him. But tonight I would relax on my balcony with a glass of wine and listen to the sounds of the night. The lavender surrounding me was blooming, making the air smell delicious. It wasn’t hiding anything; it was just what it was supposed to be. Like me.
