Page 47 of Between Now and Forever
“Oh. Thatisa little ...”
“Obnoxious?” she offers. “I loathe it. It’s so tacky. But Peter took him to get the ... whatever parts to make it sound like that. So what can I say?”
The look on her face tells me she’s probably said a lot about it. And was completely ignored.
“That’s one good thing about being a single parent,” I say. “There’s no one to argue with or to trump me. I am the final say.”
“So what did you think of Della and Scottie?” Cricket asks, her voice an octave higher than usual. “Della can be a little forward, and Scottie a touch dramatic. But they’re very sweet.”
“I thought they were great. They both seem like they could be a lot of fun.”
“They can be fun, all right.” She glances toward the sound of Peter’s voice in the living room. “Would you like to sit outside on the patio? It’s a beautiful evening.”
“I’d love to.”
The sun is warm as we sit on the wicker chairs facing Bittersweet Court. A butterfly flutters around the flower bed between the patio andthe road. It moves happily from plant to plant, as if it has no care in the world.Wouldn’t that be nice?
I spent most of Reverend Smith’s sermon early this morning pondering my life and elbowing Dylan to keep him awake. Seeing so many friendly, familiar faces when we walked in gave me energy. Sitting in the pew where our grandmother and my mother once sat was inspiring.
I come from a long line of women who are strong. Fierce. Who made it through the Great Depression, divorce, miscarriages, house fires, and more. They suffered, yet their resilience, grit, and determination drove them forward. They kept moving. And somewhere between the sermon and “Amazing Grace,” I realized I’m in that group too. I made it.I just need to keep moving forward.
But just because you’ve made it to the other side of the fire doesn’t mean life returns to the way it was before. Once you’ve been through the flames, you’re burned. Those scars never totally heal.
What will my life look like now that I’m on the other side?It’s been so long since I was in life mode, not survival mode, that I’m not even sure.
“What are you thinking about?” Cricket asks.
“If I told you, you’d laugh.”
“Try me.”
I settle back in my chair. “Okay. I was wondering what living a normal life looks like.”
“What?” She smiles but doesn’t laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I’ve tiptoed around for months, waiting for the sky to fall at any minute. I’m just now feeling like it might be okay to breathe. If I put roots down and take a step forward, maybe the world won’t slam my hopes in my face.”
“Oh, honey.” She grabs my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “This last year must’ve been just awful for you.”
“You know, I’ve had that thought every day for months.‘This is awful.’Over and over. But maybe thinking that kept me there, if that makes sense. When Reverend Smith started the sermon, he began witha passage about forgetting former things and not dwelling on the past. And my mind just took off.”
She smiles.
“Scottie said something to me yesterday, too, that’s been gnawing on me. I’ve been waiting for Dylan to change his behavior. But maybe I’m keeping him from doing that because I’m not changing mine.” I turn to face her. “Maybe I need to start going forward for him to know it’s safe.”
“I love that.”
Me too.
We sit quietly, watching the butterflies. Carter comes out and dribbles his basketball up and down the sidewalk. His tongue sticking out the side of his mouth makes Cricket and me laugh.
“I’m going to go inside for a minute,” Cricket says. “Do you need me to bring you a drink when I return?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”
She stands and goes back into the house.
I take out my phone and scroll through social media. I’m midcomment on a friend from Boston’s post when a text buzzes.
