But something shifted today. Something small but significant. A door opened that wasn’t open before.
And maybe, if we’re careful, if we respect the boundaries, if we keep our promises—maybe something good can grow from that.
rye
. . .
I wakeup before my alarm, which never happens. The room is still dark, but I can’t stop thinking about last night. About walking into that guitar shop and seeing Darian with Lily. The way he knelt down to her level, how patient he was when she asked about the different guitars. How natural it all looked.
I’ve been awake for maybe ten minutes, just staring at the ceiling and replaying that moment. He didn’t know we were coming. Couldn’t have planned it. What I saw was just him being himself with my daughter, and Lily responded to him like she’s known him forever.
The alarm finally goes off and I reach over to silence it. Time to start the day, but that image won’t leave my head. His hand gently guiding hers on the guitar neck, showing her how to position her fingers. The way Lily looked up at him, completely focused and trusting.
I drag myself out of bed and head to the kitchen to start coffee. The house is quiet, but it won’t be for long. Lily’s always up early on Saturdays, especially when she’s excited about something. And based on how she talked about guitars all the way home last night, I’m betting she’ll be up soon.
The coffee maker gurgles to life and I lean against the counter, waiting. Through the kitchen window, I can see the sun just starting to lighten the sky. Another day. Another set of decisions to make about what’s best for my daughter. What’s best for us.
“Mom?” Lily’s voice comes from the hallway. “Are you making pancakes?”
“I can,” I call back. “Come help me.”
She appears in the doorway, hair a complete mess, wearing her favorite purple pajamas. “Can we go back to the guitar store today?”
“It’s barely seven in the morning, bug. I don’t think they’re open yet.”
“Later than?” She climbs onto one of the bar stools at the island. “Darian said he could teach me more about guitars.”
“You really liked your lesson with him?” I pull out the pancake mix and a bowl.
“He knew everything.” She props her chin on her hands. “And he didn’t talk to me like I’m a baby. Some adults do that.”
I know exactly what she means. I’ve seen it happen. People hear she’s ten and immediately shift their voice up an octave, simplifying their vocabulary. Darian didn’t do that. He talked to her like a person who happened to be learning something new.
“Did you feel comfortable with him?” I ask, cracking eggs into the bowl.
“Yeah.” No hesitation. “He’s like Benny, but cooler because he knows about music.”
“Would you want him to teach you guitar?” I keep my voice casual, measuring out milk.
“Can he?” Her whole face lights up. “Would he really?”
“I don’t know. I’d have to ask him.”
“Please, Mom? Please?” She’s practically bouncing on the stool now. “I promise I’ll practice every day. I won’t complain about it like I did with piano.”
Piano lasted exactly three lessons before she declared it boring. But last night, she didn’t want to leave the guitar shop. She would have stayed there for hours if I’d let her.
“Let me think about it,” I say, pouring batter onto the griddle.
“That means yes.” She grins at me. “When you say you’ll think about it, you usually say yes.”
“Not always.”
“Most of the time.”
She’s right, and we both know it. I flip the first pancake and she cheers when it lands perfectly.
“Can I have chocolate chips in mine?” she asks.
