I walked into the kitchen. The curtains were still closed, but the room no longer felt dark. I crossed to the window and pulled them apart. Sunlight spread across the table, caught the silver locket at Grace’s throat, and filled the home that Mia had found a way to return to.
For the first time in many years, remembering my daughter did not feel like standing at the edge of an unfinished goodbye. I could grieve her, honor her, and still step forward. So I sat across from Grace, reached for the jam, and let a new morning begin.
Disclaimer: This fictional story is inspired by situations from everyday life. Names, characters, businesses, and locations are created for storytelling purposes, and any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.
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