I look down at my boots, at the sand stuck to the rubber soles.
At the salt-worn steps.
At the Cape sky.
At the seagulls wheeling over the water.
At the ocean that somehow feels like it knows me better than I know myself.
And the truth comes out before I can soften it:
“I… am home.”
Their faces lift, confused at first. I swallow.
“I think… Rhode Island is home now.”
Mom’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes immediately filling with tears. “Honey…”
I rush to clarify, my own voice thick.
“No—no, it’s not what you think. I love you both. So much. I love Ohio. That’s where I grew up. It’s where everything started.”
I take another breath. “But… something about here—about the sea, the cliffs, the cold, the little towns, even the storms… I don’t know.”
My throat tightens. “I feel moremehere than I ever did back there.”
Mom steps closer, cupping my cheeks gently, her thumbs brushing just under my eyes. Her tears are quiet, soft, not sad.
“Oh, sweetheart…” She laughs wetly. “Do you think I’m upset? That I’d be angry because you’re growing up? Because you’re finding your own place in the world?”
“I just didn’t want you to feel like I was abandoning you.”
“Oh, Jade.” She shakes her head, pulling me into her chest. “This is all I ever wanted for you.”
I blink up at her. “What do you mean?”
Mom takes a breath, her voice warm and trembling.
“I wanted you to become your own person. To belong somewhere becauseyouchose it, not because it was familiar. Not because it was safe.”
She laughs. “You have no idea how much you remind me of your grandfather when he was your age.”
I sniff. “Yeah? How?”
“He always said Rhode Island was where he could breathe.” Her smile softens. “That little fishing shack—your Aunt Susan’s house now? He kept it all those years because this place made him feel alive.”
Behind us, Aunt Susan huffs and folds her arms dramatically.
“Hey—hey—HEY. Nobody slanders my future dream house. That ‘fishing shack’ is going to be HGTV-worthy once I’m done with it.”
We all laugh, and the tension unravels from my shoulders like a release valve opening.
Mom cups my face once more.
“I’m proud of you,” she whispers. “And no, honey… I’m not upset that you want to stay here for Christmas.”
She presses her forehead to mine. “That just means you’ve found somewhere that lets you finally grow.”
