It did not require me to surrender my home or sacrifice my peace.
One Sunday afternoon, Olivia came home for a visit.
She walked into the kitchen, hugged me tightly, and looked around.
“You seem different, Mom.”
I smiled.
“Different how?”
She thought for a moment.
“You seem lighter.”
I looked through the window at the garden.
Perhaps I was.
For months, I had carried questions I was afraid to ask and doubts I was afraid to acknowledge. I had been so busy trying to save my marriage that I had forgotten to protect the woman living inside it.
Now I was learning to trust myself again.
Olivia followed my gaze.
“Are you going to be okay?”
I took her hand.
“I think I will be.”
She leaned against my shoulder.
“Good. Because I want you to be happy.”
I kissed the top of her head.
“I want that, too.”
