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A month later, I sat on my porch drinking iced tea while Monica loaded the last boxes into a moving truck.
She never looked in my direction.
Not once.
I didn’t wave.
I didn’t say goodbye.
I simply watched.
When the last box disappeared into the truck, Monica climbed inside.
The engine started.
For a moment, I thought she might finally turn around.
She didn’t.
The truck slowly pulled away from the house.
I took another sip of my iced tea and looked toward the mailbox.
My garden gnome was sitting there again.
Exactly where he belonged.
For a moment, I could almost hear my husband’s voice.
“Kindness isn’t the same as silence, El.”
Maybe that was the lesson I should have learned years ago.
Keeping the peace didn’t mean letting people take whatever they wanted.
And being kind didn’t mean pretending disrespect wasn’t happening.
There was a difference between being cruel and standing up for yourself.
A difference between forgiveness and allowing someone to hurt you again.
This time, I finally understood the difference.
I looked at my garden gnome one last time.
And for the first time in a long time…
I felt completely at peace.
