She walked through the kitchen one last time, through the dining room, through the living room where boxes no longer stood and furniture waited for strangers. The house was quiet, holding its breath, preparing for whatever came next.
At the front door, she paused and looked back.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For everything.”
Then she stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her.
Chelsea, Lauren, Sarah, and Grandma Sarah were gathered by the RV, their breath clouding in the cold air. The Garrison Getaway idled at the curb, packed and ready, pointing south toward home.
“I need one more minute,” Maggie said. “I'll meet you in the RV.”
She walked around the side of the house, following the path she had walked so many times, to hang laundry, to tend the garden, to chase children who had escaped into the backyard. The grass was brown and dormant, the flower beds bare, the whole yard waiting for spring to arrive and wake it up.
She made her way to the back corner, to the spot beneath the old fence where the woodchuck had made its home. The hole was still there, dark and quiet, the earth around it undisturbed.
This was where she had been standing the day everything changed. Spraying coyote urine, yelling at a rodent, trying to protect tomatoes that didn't matter while her marriage crumbledinside the house behind her. She had been so focused on the small battle that she had missed the war entirely.
“I came to say goodbye,” she said to the hole. “This is the real goodbye. The final one.”
The hole, predictably, said nothing.
“I'm not the same person I was when I lived here. You probably noticed. I used to be so angry at you, so determined to win. And now...” She laughed softly. “Now I'm standing in a cold backyard talking to a hole in the ground. So maybe I haven't changed that much after all.”
She was about to turn away when she saw it.
A movement at the edge of the hole. A nose, brown and whiskered, emerging from the darkness. Two small eyes, black and bright, peering up at her.
The woodchuck.
Maggie froze, afraid to breathe, afraid to break the spell. The woodchuck climbed out of its hole and sat back on its haunches, regarding her with what she could only describe as mild interest. It was smaller than she remembered, its fur thick with winter weight, its expression utterly unimpressed by the human standing in its territory.
“Well,” Maggie whispered. “There you are.”
The woodchuck twitched its nose.
“I'm leaving. For good this time. The house is being sold. New people are moving in.” She paused, feeling slightly ridiculous but unable to stop. “I hope they're kind to you. I hope they don't spray coyote urine or set traps or do any of the things I tried to do.”
The woodchuck scratched behind its ear with one back paw, apparently unconcerned about the future.
“I wanted to hate you, you know. That day. The day Daniel told me he wanted a divorce. I wanted to blame you for everything, for distracting me, for being there, for being something I could yell at when I couldn't yell at him.” Maggie felt tears prickat her eyes. “But you were just living your life. Just being a woodchuck. You didn't do anything wrong.”
The woodchuck lowered itself back to all fours and waddled a few steps closer, close enough that Maggie could see the individual whiskers on its face, the intelligence in its small dark eyes.
“I forgive you,” she said. “For the tomatoes. For all of it.”
The woodchuck looked at her for a long moment. Then it turned, waddled back to its hole, and disappeared into the darkness without a backward glance.
Maggie laughed, a real laugh, full and warm, rising up from somewhere deep in her chest. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and shook her head.
“Goodbye to you too,” she said to the empty hole.
She walked back around the house, past the dormant garden and the bare trees and the porch where the swing no longer hung. The RV waited at the curb, its engine rumbling, her family visible through the windows.
This was it. The last moment. The final goodbye.
She climbed into the RV and pulled the door closed behind her.
“Everything okay?” Chelsea asked from the passenger seat.
