“I just hoped you might talk to me… before it’s too late.”
Noah looked at me.
Without words, asking permission.
I steadied my voice.
“The choice is yours.”
He wiped his eyes.
“Not today,” he said.
“I can’t today.”
Elaine nodded.
“You can leave the flowers,” Noah added quietly.
After She Left
After she walked away, Noah sat on the porch steps.
I sat beside him.
“Mom,” he asked softly, “did you love me the moment you saw me?”
“Of course.”
He stared down the street.
“Do you think she loved me too?”
“I think she always did.”
He squeezed my hand.
“Then why does it feel like I’m the one paying for what they did?”
I squeezed his fingers back.
“Because you’re the one who has to move forward with it.”
“But you won’t do it alone.”
He nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
“Together.”
And we sat there as the afternoon light touched the roses beside us—
trying to figure out how to live with a truth none of us had ever expected to find.
