That first Sunday morning, I made coffee, carried it outside, and sat down.
The air smelled like cut grass and wet earth. Biscuit was barking somewhere down the street. Priya’s toddler was laughing in the yard next door. Above me, the maple leaves had unfolded into small, bright green hands.
My phone buzzed.
For one second, the old reflex kicked in. My stomach tightened, the way it always had when my phone lit up during the marriage, never knowing which version of Mark would be on the other end.
But it wasn’t Mark.
It would never be Mark again.
It was Lauren.
Morning Mom!! Are you on your bench? Send a pic!!
I laughed, held up my coffee mug against the tree, and took a photo.
Then I typed a message back.
On my bench. In my yard. At my house. Come visit soon. I’ll give you a new code. 💛
