My husband had spent years warning me never to set foot on that farm. So after he passed away and the lawyer handed me the key, saying that from now on the place belonged to me, I was ready to sell it right away and put everything behind me. But before making my final decision, I still wanted to see it once for myself. When the door opened, I finally understood why, all those years, he had never wanted me to set foot there.

Some evenings I still sit on the porch after the horses are in, after the western light has gone copper and then blue, after the house settles around me with its old wood and new purpose, and I think about the first day I drove through those gates with Joshua’s key in my palm.

I thought I was coming to decide whether to sell a secret.

I was actually arriving at the place where my life would split open and ask whether I intended to remain the person grief first made me, or become someone larger because of what love had left unfinished.

The videos ended eventually.