For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, “I think I might be able to breathe a little easier now.”
I held her closer.
“Then let’s make room for that.”
As the months passed, Anna slowly began reclaiming parts of herself she had buried.
She started tending the garden again.
At first, she planted only a few flowers near the back steps. Then she bought rose bushes, carefully selecting varieties that reminded her of the garden outside her childhood home.
One morning, I found her kneeling beside a flowerbed, wearing gardening gloves and humming an old song.
I stood at the kitchen window and watched her.
When she noticed me, she waved.
“Are you planning to supervise me all day?” she called.
“Someone has to make sure you don’t plant the roses upside down.”
She laughed.
“You really are a terrible gardener.”
“I have other qualities.”
“Name three.”
