I sat up a bit. “Okay?”
“I mean, I haven’t really been alone, not really. I think it could be good for the both of us to take a few months and truly discover the ins and outs of our hearts and minds. Then, once we truly come together, it will be because we are two whole individuals, not two broken ones leaning against one another to keep from falling.”
“Exactly. We’ll learn to walk alone, and then we’ll walk together.”
“Can you let me know where you are every now and then? Can you check in with me to let me know you’re safe?”
“Always and always,” I told her.
She released a small sigh. “Those words…who do you think created them first? Your mother or my father?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s one of those things, though. The origin of the saying doesn’t matter. All that matters is the meaning behind it.”
“I miss you already,” she confessed.
I fell in love with her some more.
“I miss you already,” I replied.
“Jackson?”
“Yes?”
“When you find you, come back to me.”
*
On the day I was leaving town, there was a knock on my front door. When I opened it, I saw a cage sitting on my porch with a ribbon on top of it along with a note.
Dear Jackson,
I know today marks the first day of your new adventures, and I wanted to send my love. Plus, how could one go on a road trip without a nice companion? This is Watson—Wats for short. He’s a three-year-old golden retriever who loves playing catch and riding in cars. He’s always wagging his tail, and he loves cuddles almost as much as I do.
I thought that even though you’re finding yourself, you shouldn’t ride in a car alone all the time. I don’t want you to think of this as a replacement to Tucker. Tucker was a good boy, and his love can never be replaced, but I think Watson can add a little more love your way. That’s the thing about love—there’s always room for more.
Here’s to new friendships and new beginnings.
-Gracelyn Mae
P.S. I’m falling in love with you, too.
I smiled at the note and read the words over and over again. I bent down and looked at the dog in the cage. He wagged his tail back and forth and stuck out his tongue.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, grinning. He was so handsome. When I opened the door on the cage, he leaped my way and began licking away at my face. “Whoa, slow down there, slugger.”
He kept licking, and I kept laughing. “Will you stop, stupid dog?” I joked, but he didn’t reply. That tail of his kept flying back and forth, and I finally surrendered to his love.
Good boy, Wats, I thought to myself, holding him closer. Good boy.
52
Grace
We gave each other space because we didn’t want to use one another as a crutch any longer. If we were going to be together, we’d first have to be whole on our own. I fell back into teaching, and when I wasn’t teaching, I was out and about trying new things.
For a while I thought I was the yoga type of girl until I got stuck in killer praying mantis for a good bit of time. I couldn’t paint or sketch at all. When late autumn came, Mama and I took a pole dance class. I wasn’t sure what was more disturbing—the fact that Mama loved it so much that she continued with the classes on her own, or the fact that she was ten times better than me.
Dad didn’t know what he was missing out on.
She laughed more, too.
I almost forgot how much I loved the sound of Mama’s laughter.
One late November night, I received a package in the mail with a novel and a Post-it note attached to it. My heart skipped as my fingers raced over the book cover, and then I read Jackson’s words.
I’m currently in Cave Creek, Arizona, watching the sunset with Watson.
The night before, I read this novel, and all I could do was think about you and what you’d think
of the words within the pages.
It’s a hard read, but worth it.
-Oscar
P.S. I learned I hate sushi.
*
I liked the ending but struggled with the middle. I cried, which isn’t surprising.
I still cry so easily.
Try this book.
It will break your heart.
-Princess
P.S. I hate sushi, too.
*
Alex sent me this read for Christmas.
If you read this book backward, it’s better.
-Oscar
*
I don’t know why I’m even sending this book, just skip to chapter five.
Chapter five is so good it makes up for all the other pages.
-Princess
*
Today I missed your heartbeats.
-Oscar
*
Today I missed your touch.
-Princess
*
It’s March 23rd.
Today I sat in California watching the sunrise, and I painted the sky.
You would love this place, Princess.
Or maybe I’d just love if you were here.
Tell me something I should know.
-Oscar
*
Something you should know?
That’s easy.
Today is April 4th, and I still love you.
-Princess
*
It’s May 3rd, and I still love you, too.
-Oscar
When late May came around, I was getting ready to finish yet another year of teaching. It was chilling how much had changed in the past year, how much I have grown, and how much I’ve learned about my heart and how it beat.
On Sunday morning, Mama always headed off to church. That was something she realized about herself—no matter if she was still with Dad or not, she held on to her faith. Sometimes I went with her, and other times, I stayed and prayed on my own.
Over the past year, I learned that faith wasn’t a building, yet it was a place in one’s heart.
I could go to a church and be surrounded by others and join them in prayer, or I could close my eyes in my own solitude and find peace. Both ways were worthy. Both ways were right.
There wasn’t one correct way to believe—there were a million possibilities out there.
That was one of my favorite discoveries. I didn’t have to be a perfect Christian in order to exist in the world.
When Mother’s Day came around, I went to church with Mama and sat in the pew holding her hand tight in mine. Throughout my life, there were a few hard days. Days where even when I tried to be happy, my heart still cracked, and Mother’s Day was one of those. For others, it stood as a celebration. For me, it spoke of loss and failure.
I’d somewhat come to terms with the fact I wouldn’t be one who had children. It wasn’t in my cards, and I’d learned to accept that.
But still, some days were harder than others.
Mother’s Day was one of them.
“That was a beautiful service,” Mama told me as we walked home from the church with our arms linked.
“It was.”
She smiled my way and tilted her head. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just tired. Judy is driving in tonight for dinner, so I think I’ll just grab a nap before she gets here.”
“Sounds like a perfect plan.” She took my hand in hers and squeezed it. “Today’s a tough one for you?”
“Yes, it is.”
She squeezed my hand again and didn’t say another word. Though her comfort was enough.
That was all I ever wanted from Mama—her comfort.
As we walked up the steps to my apartment, and I unlocked the door, my eyes watered over, and I gasped as I looked around.
Scattered throughout the living room and dining room were bouquets of red roses.
Seven to be exact.
“Mama…” I started.
She shook her head. “They aren’t from me.”
I walked over to the roses sitting on the coffee table and grabbed the note attached to them.
Instant tears fell from my eyes.
Because there is no such thing as an “almost” mother.
Seven bouquets from your seven angels.
Happy Mother’s Day, Princess.
My heart skipped as I read how the card was signed.
- Emerson, Jamie, Karla, Michael, Jaxon, Phillip, Steven, and Oscar.
There was one bouquet from each child I’d lost.
All of my babies.
All of my loves.
Mama moved over to me and read the words on the letter. “Oh, honey,” she breathed out, just as stunned as I had been. “He’s the one.”