We had stayed in touch awkwardly at first, and then with the ease that comes when someone has seen you clearly during a hard time and you’ve both survived it.
“You look good,” she said, and she meant it the way people mean it when the good is real.
“I feel okay,” I told her. “More than okay, actually.”
She nodded.
“Good. You deserve more than okay.”
I paid for my carrots.
I walked home in the October morning, bag on my shoulder, thinking about the certification exam I had scheduled for the following month and the weekend trip my sister and I were planning for December and the small plant I had bought for my new kitchen window sill that was, against all my expectations, actually starting to grow.
I had been faithful for 4 years.
I had stayed and waited and believed.
And in the end, the only thing that had saved me was the same thing that had always been there: myself.
That turned out to be enough.
More than enough.
”
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