“Of course you can.”
He held me tightly.
“Mom,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes.
And in that moment, something inside me healed.
Not because the years we'd lost no longer mattered.
They did.
Not because Thomas's silence had become acceptable.
It hadn't.
But because the future had finally become larger than the past.
That night, I returned home and sat beside Thomas's photograph.
The house was quiet.
But no longer lonely.
I placed the picture from the opening ceremony beside his.
Then I looked at the man I'd loved since college.
“You certainly made a mess of things, Thomas,” I whispered.
I laughed through my tears.
“A magnificent mess.”
I touched the frame.
“I wish you'd trusted me.”
A long silence followed.
Then I smiled.
“But I think we're going to be all right.”
Outside, the garden was full of spring flowers.
The purple birdhouse still hung from the old apple tree.
