Finding the Courage to Step Beyond the Shadows of Our Past
I watched him walk down the driveway, his silhouette disappearing under the yellow glow of the streetlamp.
I closed the door and locked it.
The latch clicked shut with a solid, reassuring sound.
***
The next three days passed in a quiet blur of cleaning and sorting.
With the financial worry gone, David seemed like a different person.
He came down to breakfast on Sunday morning wearing a clean shirt, his eyes bright.
“I slept eight hours last night,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“I don’t think I’ve done that since last summer.”
“It shows,” Rachel said, nudging him with her elbow. “You don’t look like a bear anymore.”
“Thanks,” David said, but he smiled.
After breakfast, I went up to my bedroom and opened the closet.
At the very back, wrapped in a plastic dry-cleaning bag, was a forest green dress.
It was made of a soft crepe material that draped beautifully.
Arthur had bought it for me for our thirty-fifth anniversary.
I took it out of the bag and held it against myself in front of the mirror.