My name is Loretta Dean, and this is how I got my dignity back after my daughter told me my room smelled bad. So I packed up my stuff and sold the house.
I wasn’t trying to hear. I was just walking by the kitchen to get more tea. Paige was on the phone, pacing barefoot over the tile, and one palm was slicing the air like it always did when she was angry.
“She doesn’t even see it,” she remarked. “Her room smells bad.” It smells like the air at a nursing home. Heavy, like old cloth and, I don’t know, something medical. She chuckled, a quick, clipped sound I didn’t know.
I paused in the middle of my step. The chipped mug I was holding shook. I held it steady with my other hand, being cautious not to spill. I was standing right outside the door, not hiding or sneaking around. Paige didn’t turn around. Didn’t drop her voice.
“It’s getting into the hallway,” she said next. “I sprayed the whole bottom floor, but it seems to stick to everything.”
My heart didn’t race. It got slower. I backed up without making a sound. My slippers didn’t make any noise on the hardwood floor. I went back to the room they had let me remain in, which they called the “guest room.” I closed the door quietly behind me. Not to hide, but to keep something safe that had been opened too quickly. The tea in my cup had cooled down. I put it on the dresser, where I keep my vitamins, folded nightgowns, and a picture of Paige when she was seven, smiling with no front teeth.
I stared at her tiny face. The face that used to beg me to sing one more lullaby and grieved when I left for my night job at Memorial Hospital. The one who ran to me in the mornings with paint on her fingers and told me secrets. She walks by me now without touching my arm. She praises me for doing her laundry like I’m a nice neighbor, not her mom.
I turned seventy-seven three months ago. I had the stroke two weeks later. Not much, just enough to make walking hard and mornings hard to plan. Paige had called right away. “Mom, you shouldn’t be alone. You can stay with us till things get better.
There was a time when I didn’t need anyone’s permission to be. I worked as a nurse at Memorial for forty-two years, working nights and bringing newborns into the world while holding the hands of people who were departing it. People put their lives, their final words, and their first breaths in my hands. I need to get authorization to change the thermostat now.
I grabbed the mug again. The crack on the edge had gotten a little bigger. I brushed my fingers over it and felt the rough edge. It was another broken thing that was fighting 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 there; 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. A quiet street with windows that face south, just the kind of place I thought I’d grow old in. The money assisted with the down payment on this house. Paige’s name is on the mortgage, and my savings are in the closing. It felt like a home that we all lived in at first. I made muffins, watched Tyler and Zoe while Paige was in meetings, and paid the water bill without being asked. After that, they transferred my boxes to the garage. They 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 became busy.
“Mom, can you pick up 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 halfway out the door in her fitted suit. Her hair is pushed up so tightly that it seems like it hurts.
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 assured myself they didn’t aim to hurt me. They were merely busy and had a lot on their plate. But even justifications can’t make cold stares feel better or stop folks from looking at you like you’re 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 put tomatoes by the window in the kitchen. A couple pots. But one time, while I was watering, Paige walked by. “Mom,” she asked, not in a mean way but not in a nice way either, “do you mind moving these?” You know, they don’t really fit with the look.
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.
Paige put a designer candle at my door last week. The label said “Clean Linen,” yet it smelled like bleach and sadness. “Don’t take it personally,” she said. “Sometimes the hallway just feels stuffy,” I said again. In this house, I seem to nod a lot.
James claimed I had a voice like warm honey when I sang in the church chorus. Now I hum softly to myself, and even then, I occasionally stop in the middle of a note because I feel like I’m taking up too much space with the vibration in my throat.
At dinner last night, they talked about my doctor’s appointment. 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 said, but my voice sounded weaker than I meant it to.
Paige blinked as if she had forgotten. “Sure, Mom.” We are just worried.
I heard Paige on the phone again later. “It’s getting worse.” She lost her spectacles three times last week. I once found them in the fridge. I wanted to explain. I had to set them down to help Zoe with a school assignment since my hands were full of glue and glitter. But when others think you’re incompetent, explanations seem like excuses.
Then there was the candle, the pricey one that smelled like “Clean Linen.” I could feel the heat rising to my face, but not because I was angry. After that, I began to take two showers a day. I laundered my nightgowns every day since I was scared the smell might 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 stated that would be best for everyone.
The kettle started to make a thin, high-pitched noise that sounded like a scream from far away. I turned it off with a hand that didn’t feel like mine. “I understand,” I answered.
Tyler responded angrily, “I told her it was messed up,” and all of a sudden he looked older than fifteen. “You are family.” He hugged me for a short time, but it was sincere, and then he went upstairs. I didn’t brew the tea. I went back to my room and sat in the dark, thinking about how quickly we may become a problem.
No one noticed my seventy-seventh birthday until dinner. Paige instantly gasped, “Oh my God, Mom, it’s your birthday!” I totally forgot.
I was alone in my room later when I unlocked the closet and took out the pink linen dress, which was still in its garment bag. I put it on the bed and felt the fabric. I thought about James then, how he used to make us dance in the kitchen and kiss my hand and tell me I was the most beautiful lady in the world.
I put on the dress without thinking. It fit differently now, but it still looked great. I looked at myself in the small mirror. My hair is gray, there are creases around my eyes, and my hands are speckled with age yet still powerful. I looked like an old woman in a nice dress. But something changed in me. A tiny spark came back to life. I remembered who I was. Not simply Paige’s mom and not just a bother. I was Loretta Dean. I had helped women give birth and soothed people who were dying. I had loved a good man very much. And yet, I had allowed them to take that dignity away from me.
I perched on the edge of the bed and started to write a list, not a diary. My name, my memories, and my decisions are at the top.
Paige came rushing in the next morning as I was drinking tea. “Mom, can you get the dry cleaning today?” And Zoe has a dentist’s appointment at four.
I actually looked at her for the first time in months. I said “no” in a low voice.
She paused. “What?””
“I have things to do today.”
“Plans? What are the plans?”
“Just plans.” I drank some tea.
She looked at me, torn between being confused and angry. “Okay,” she finally said. “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.
Paige was in the kitchen when I got back. “Where have you been?” I’ve been trying to reach you.
“I had lunch.”
“That dress? Where? With whom?”
“At Petit Chou.” And with me.
She glanced me over. “Mom, are you okay?”
I grinned, and it felt unusual 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: bravery. Because 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 nice clothes, did my makeup for the first time in months, and phoned a taxi. “Where are you headed?” “Paige inquired.
“I have an appointment.”
“With whom? Do you need me to take you?”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” I’ve set up a ride.
It would have been funny how confused she looked if it weren’t so sad. The first place I went was the office of my old lawyer. It was time to figure out what I could do.
Raymond Teague stood up and said, “Loretta Dean.” “It has been too long.”
I told him, “I need to know exactly where I stand legally.” “With the house.”
He nodded, not surprised. “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?””
“It means, Loretta, that you still own the house completely.” That provides you the right to sell or give it away.
I felt relief rush over me, and then remorse hit me right away. I told him everything, from the flame to the talks I heard and how I felt like I was in the way.
Raymond responded, “Loretta, you have the right to go into any room in your house as the homeowner.” His eyes were friendly but worried. Do you really want to discover what’s in Paige’s office?”
“I need to know,” I answered forcefully.
I came back to a peaceful house that afternoon. I headed to Paige’s desk. I wasn’t being sneaky. It was my home. When I opened the middle drawer to retrieve a stamp, I saw 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 remarks 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.
For almost thirty years, Dr. Elaine Foster worked with me at Memorial. I hadn’t seen her in almost a year when she came to my door on a Tuesday afternoon. She hugged me and murmured, “Loretta Dean.” “These days, it’s hard to get in touch with you.”
I told her everything over tea. “You know, I’ve been wanting to tell you about this place I found,” she added when I was done. The name of it is Horizon Gardens. It’s a co-op for older people, but it’s not like those sad 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 living their lives. “I became a member of their board last year,” she said. “A unit just became available last week.” One bedroom, a private patio, and windows that face south.” She looked at me in a way that made me think. “Just like your old apartment.” Loretta, you don’t have to go away. “You don’t have to get smaller until there’s nothing left.”
At that moment, Paige got home. I said, “Paige, this is Dr. Elaine Foster.” They said sweet but cold things to one another. Elaine saw what was going on in the room and gave me her card. “Please think about what I said, Loretta. “You can call me at any time.
Paige stared at the lovely tomatoes and basil Elaine had brought from her garden after she departed. “Where are you going to put them? My herbs are all over the windowsill in the kitchen.
I picked them up and said, “Don’t worry.” “I’ll find a place.”
Raymond Teague stated, “A trust.” “That’s what I think is best. You would give the residence to a legal entity that you own. You can specify certain rules. Most importantly, you still have full control over the property.
“Would Paige know?”
“Not unless you tell her.”
I thought about this. Freedom, safety, and a house that was really mine again.
Raymond’s tone changed as he said, “There’s something else.” “I’m worried about that power of attorney form.” If Paige got you to sign that, she might take over your money and medical decisions.
I felt a cold run through me. “What do you think?””
“First, we file to take back any powers of attorney that are already in place. Then we make a new one and name someone you can trust completely. I thought of Elaine right away.
I had a plan as I left Raymond’s office. Steps that are clear. A way to move forward. I had always put other people first. I had given everything I had until there was almost nothing left. But I wasn’t done yet. There was yet enough of me to save myself. I called Elaine when I got home. “I want to see that unit at Horizon Gardens,” I remarked. “If it’s still there.”
She grinned and said over the phone, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten.”
Tall crepe myrtles concealed Horizon Gardens. The area inside the fence was full of life. There were flowering plants, a tiny fountain, benches, and people—old individuals with gray hair and wrinkles who were living their lives. As we walked by, they looked up and smiled at us. No one could see through me. The unit was a modest cottage with a front porch at the end of a brick walkway. The inside was tiny but well-planned, featuring a living room with big windows facing south, a small kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom with grab bars that weren’t too obvious. It had no furniture, but it was full of potential.
“What do you think?” “Elaine asked.
“It feels like a place where I can breathe.”
The buy-in was big, but it was reasonable. The cost for the month was lower than I thought it would be. Raymond had told me how much the house was worth, so it was more than conceivable. Margot, the front desk manager, came to the door with an application folder. “Just in case,” she said with a smile.
“Yes,” I responded before I could change my mind. “I’d really like that.”
That night, I dreamed about tomatoes ripening in the sun and windows I could open without permission. I felt lighter when I woke up than I have in years. I began putting my belongings into boxes with labels like “Kitchen—Keep,” “Donate,” and “Not for Them.”
I moved around the house in a different way. I stood up straighter. I was more forthright. Paige saw it. “You seem different these days,” she commented one night. “More… here.”
“I guess I’m feeling more like myself.”
“Is it the new medicine?”
“Maybe,” I answered, not correcting her. “Or maybe I’m just finding my way back.”
She arrived in my room a few days later. “Mom, I’ve been thinking. It could be time for us to talk about the future.” Me and Mason were looking at some really nice neighborhoods…”
I put a mark on my page. “Sounds like you’ve thought about it a lot.”
“We have.” We just want what’s best for you.
I said, “That’s very nice of you.” “But I can make my own choices.”
“Of course you are,” she responded, her face showing a hint of frustration. “I have some brochures in my office. I’ll bring them to you.”
It was unusual for Mason to be in the kitchen the next morning. “Paige said she talked to you about the… living arrangements.” The united front.
“Yes, she did.”
“We don’t want you to leave…”
“You don’t have to explain,” I said softly. “I understand perfectly.” His face showed a lot of relief. I made myself a cup of coffee and took it back upstairs, which made him a little confused. Let him think. I had finished my application for Horizon Gardens by that evening. My meeting with Raymond was planned for Friday.
That night, Paige brought the brochures like she said she would. “This one is only thirty minutes away,” she remarked, pointing to a large building. “And they have different levels of care, so you won’t have to move again when your needs change.”
I remarked, “It looks very nice.”
“So you’ll think about it?””
“Let me look over these first.” “It’s a big decision.” She smiled, thinking I agreed with her. That night, I couldn’t get to sleep. I choose tomorrow. It was time to get things going tomorrow.
Paige’s face showed that she didn’t believe it. “What did you do?”
We were sitting at the kitchen table. “I talked to a lawyer,” I said again gently.
“Legal choices? For what?”
“For the house.” For my money. “For my future.”
“I don’t get it. We’ve been talking about what will happen to you in the future…
“No, Paige.” You have been planning my future. There is a distinction. “You never asked what I wanted.”
“That’s not right! We’ve simply been thinking about what’s best for you!”
“Best for me or easiest for you? Her eyes got bigger. Paige, I found the folder. “The one in your office. “Estate Planning.” With my life insurance, my bank statements, the pamphlets, and the power of attorney form you wanted me to sign.
Her face lost all its color. “You looked through my private papers!””
“In my home. I still own the house. Paige, look at the deed. There is only one name on it: mine.
She moved away from the table. “You went to Dad’s old lawyer without telling me? After all we’ve done for you?”
“Are you taking me in?” “I finally got up.” “This is my house, Paige.” I sold my condo to get it. And then you made me feel like an unwelcome guest in my own home.
“That’s crazy!” You’re being paranoid!”
“Am I? The candle outside my door to cover up the stench of my “nursing home”? Moving my plants because they didn’t match your “aesthetic”? Are you going to send me to a facility until you figure out how to get to my savings?”
She crossed her arms to protect herself. “Okay! Yes, I’ve been looking at my possibilities. Someone has to do it! Mom, you had a stroke. “You forget things.”
“I had a small stroke more than two years ago. I feel 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 plan other people’s lives without their permission. I’m leaving.” I’ve already been given the go-ahead for a unit at Horizon Gardens.”
She blinked, which made her lose her footing. “A home for retirement?”
“It’s a group of grownups who live on their own and appreciate each other. A trust will hold the house. You and Mason will have six months to determine if you wish to buy it from the trust for a fair price.
She sat back down in her chair and looked at me like I was a stranger. “When?””
“I move at the end of the month.”
She laughed, and it sounded short and unpleasant. “Is it a favor? After using legal tricks and secret intentions to catch me off guard? We both saw the irony in it.
“What about the kids?” she questioned, changing her approach. “This will destroy them.”
“Will it?” When was the last time either of them spent more than five minutes with me? I shook my head. “They can come see me whenever they want.”
Finally, she replied, “I never meant for you to feel unwelcome.”
“I know,” I said. “But Paige, intention and impact are not the same thing.”
Her silence spoke volumes. Mason came to my door later. “Loretta,” he said, “Paige told me what you decided. I get it; you could feel like no one cares. “We can fix that.”
“This isn’t about getting attention, Mason.”
“Then what is it about? It seems to me that 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 walked around the room. “Have you thought about how this will affect the kids? For our stability? Right now, we can’t afford to buy this house at its market value.
And there it was. The actual worry. Not my health, but my money. I told them, “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.”
It was the perfect time for Paige’s family to go away for the weekend. A man named Harold and Margot from the co-op came in an unmarked van by 10 in the morning. 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 was important, not everything. The van was full by lunchtime.
“Would you like 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.”
I didn’t provide you my phone number or address. Raymond had those. 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 quiet would be terrible. And 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 tiny, yet it felt like it was getting bigger around me. The unpacking was done by nightfall. Elaine stayed, and we ate Chinese cuisine right out of the boxes. She raised her paper cup of green tea and exclaimed, “To new beginnings.”
There was a knock in the morning. Harold brought a potted mint plant. “Housewarming,” he remarked in a rough voice. “Bingo on Wednesdays.” Not required, but nice folks. “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. “The nurse at night? Thank God. “We need more medical people around here.” I agreed and felt important again.
That night, Raymond called. “They’re back.” Your daughter is not happy. She says you’re not of sound mind and is threatening to take you to court.
“Is there anything she can do?””
“Not successfully.” We have written down everything about your mental health. “The trust is unbreakable.” He stopped. “She needs your phone number and address.”
“Do you think she’s ready to talk to me for real?””
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. The messages were different: shock, indignation, and begging. “How could you do this to us?” “Please come home, Mom.” “We’re worried about you.” I heard each one and understood what they meant: that I had choices, authority, and value.
Then I got an SMS from a number I didn’t know. “Hey Grandma, it’s Tyler. Where are you? Are you okay?”
I replied back, “I’m fine, honey.” I have my own place now.
There was a long pause, and then they asked, “Was it because of what I told you?””
“Tyler, no.” It was a lot of things over a long 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 vow to get in touch with you shortly.
“Okay.” I miss you.
“Sweetheart, I miss you too.”
I went to a potluck in the common room that night. I 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. I wasn’t fading for the first time in years. Every day, I was getting more and more visible.
The knock was strong and persistent. Paige stood on my little porch with her arms folded. “Can I come in?””
She came in and looked around my new house, looking for signs that it wasn’t good enough. Instead, she saw a little but complete house. “So this is where you went,” she remarked.
I said, “This is where I moved to.” “There was no going away.” I wrote a note. ”
“A note?!” she spat. “After everything we’ve done for you, you left a note and disappeared?”
“I needed to be somewhere I was welcomed, not just given 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. And I’m not punishing anyone.” I’m picking what’s best for me.”
“Why didn’t you just talk to us?””
The question showed a complete lack of self-awareness. “I tried, Paige. For two years. “I tried,” I informed her about the candle and the folder. She had the grace to blush.
“You don’t get it. We were attempting to get ready…
“Without talking to me about any of it? No, Paige. You were trying to control me. There is a distinction.
“So that’s it?” she finally asked. “You’re just gone?””
“I’m still here. I’m right here. You and the kids can come over whenever you like.” But I’m here on my terms, with respect for each other. ” I changed how I spoke. “Paige, this isn’t about being turned down. It’s about getting back my self-respect.
She looked around again. “You seem… settled,” she said with a hint of regret.
“I am.” I feel like myself again for the first time in years.
She stopped 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 answered. “Intention and effect are not the same thing.”
A few days later, there was a light knock. Tyler was there. He stepped up and gave me a nice embrace. He responded, “It smells like cookies.”
“It could,” I said, “if we make some.”
We were standing in the kitchen, elbow to elbow. He broke eggs too hard, spilled flour, and ate dough. I didn’t fix anything. He murmured 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 starting to see it now.
He came back the next week and the week after that. He brought Zoe with him on his fourth visit. She held out for half a cookie before she started to defrost. She said, “Mom said you left because you were mad at her.”
“I left because I needed my own space,” I said. “It wasn’t about being mad. It was about being happy.
She thought about this. “Are you happy?”
I looked about my little house that was full of light. “Yes,” I answered. “I’m really happy.”
That night, Paige sent a text. “The kids came home happy.” Thanks… They miss you. Yes, we all do. “On our way.”
I texted back, “My door is always open.” “When you’re ready.” The dots came and went. But for the first time, I thought it could be possible to rebuild.
It was six months later. Mason and Paige made the decision to buy the house. And then, on a clear fall day, Paige came by herself with a box from the bakery. She said, “I brought coffee cake.” “From Mueller’s, your favorite.” We sat down at my little table. “I didn’t see you, Mom,” she responded, 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 apologize for making you feel uncomfortable and for planning your future without you.
I stretched across the table and held her hand. “I also apologize for not saying something sooner.”
“Where do we go from here?” she inquired.
I just said, “Forward.” “Not together, but connected.” “On new terms.”
“Will you be coming for Thanksgiving?” she asked as she departed. “The kids would have a blast.” I would too.
“I’d be honored,” I answered.
“As a guest,” she grinned and understood. “As our special guest.”
I sat on my terrace and watched the light slant across the lavender after she left. Six months ago, I left a house where people put up with me. Now I had a place to live where I felt accepted, and the bridges were slowly being constructed. That night, I unlocked my closet and pulled out the pink linen dress. I put it on. When I glanced in the mirror, I didn’t simply see an old woman; I saw someone who had gotten her dignity back. I would wear it to the community dinner dance tomorrow. Harold had asked me if I could save him a waltz. But tonight, I’d sit on my balcony with a glass of wine and listen to the noises of the night. The lavender around me was in blossom, infusing the air with sweetness. It wasn’t hiding anything; it was just what it was meant to be. Just like me.