I thought about all the messages I’d left unanswered, and the part of me that still felt guilty.
“How do you know when it’s time to let someone go?” I asked.
Diane considered the question.
“When being with them requires you to abandon yourself.”
I drove home with those words echoing in my head.
For the first time in months, I wondered whether I might be ready to stop looking backward.
I began finding reasons to visit Diane.
At first, the reasons were practical.
Her back door stuck when the weather was damp. I fixed the hinges and sanded the swollen edge of the frame.
A kitchen drawer refused to close properly. I repaired the runner.
The wooden gate near the garden leaned to one side, so I reinforced it.
Diane never treated my help as an obligation. She always offered to pay, and when I refused, she thanked me without making me feel that I had somehow failed to prove my worth.
