Yesterday.
All of yesterday.
Pulling into Cedar Falls on Saturday afternoon after thirty-two hours of swapping seats and chasing the highway west.
Straight to the hospital. The nursing program director meeting Grace in a conference room on a weekend—shaking her hand like she already belonged there.
Grace sitting up straighter without noticing she was doing it.
The tour. The dorms. Small, clean, a window that gets afternoon light and a view of the mountains that makes the room feel twice as big as it is.
Grace standing in the doorway. Not saying anything for a full ten seconds.
The tuition waiver. The stipend. The housing. The clinical placements. All of it real. All of it immediate. Grace—employed, housed, learning, safe—all at once, starting as soon as May.
The people we met after. The woman at the diner who knew every doctor at the hospital by first name. The guy at the gas station who told us about the town’s Gold-Medal Game Watch Party and proceeded to explain the whole AHL expansion like it was the best thing to happen to Cedar Falls since electricity. The bartender at the local pub who gave us free pie because Grace asked what was good and then actually listened to the answer.
This town talks to strangers like they're already neighbors.
And underneath all of that—quiet, persistent, a thought I keep filing away and refusing to examine—
Grace doesn't need me anymore.
There's nothing to fix.
Slow down, Jane.
I tighten my grip on the wheel as we head to the arena.
Grace asks if I'm okay.
I say yes.
She doesn't push.
Ipull into the arena parking lot at five-forty and stop the car.
I was not prepared for this.
The arena blazes against the pre-dawn dark—every light on, flooding the asphalt in white and gold. Cars streaming in from every direction.
Families. Couples. People in Team USA jerseys. People in pajamas under coats. People carrying thermoses and flags and small children flapping their arms excitedly like they can’t decide if they’re cold or thrilled or just stunned to discover morning exists at this hour.
A line at the main entrance already.
The marquee sign reads:
OLYMPIC GOLD MEDAL WATCH PARTY
USA VS CANADA
FREE ADMISSION
DOORS OPEN 5:30 AM
GO USA
Grace makes a sound that isn't words. A vibration. An emotional frequency only dogs and enthusiastic younger sisters can produce.
